Like a Marionette
by Valtac
Summary: Wormtail is no traitor - but even the heart of a Gryffindor can be broken by the terrible power of Lord Voldemort. The Potters are not discovered until the Halloween after Harry's sixth birthday. They were not ready. And Harry will never be the same. AU from the beginning! There will eventually be romance but it will take awhile to form.
1. Chapter 1 - Like a Marionette

**Disclaimer: The characters in this story and universe belong to J K Rowling alone.**

 **This is an idea I've had for a while. I have been reading fanfiction for the better part of ten years. The older and more mature I've gotten the more I've read and been interested in more mature stories and this one came to me at work one day.**

 **Warning: The good guys don't always win, there's not always a happily ever after and sometimes bad things happen to good people.**

 **There will eventually be romance; this isn't going to be a harem or anything like that. I already know how I want this whole story to go and hopefully I'll be able to stick it out until the end. More than that I hope you guys enjoy it, and without further ado here's Like a Marionette.**

 **Warning specific for this chapter! There will be death and suicide. You've been warned.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Like a Marionette**

As she brought the vial to her lips she was interrupted, "Lily… Please, don't do this." The scarlet haired woman slowly and apathetically turned her head to look at her husband; glasses barely hanging to his face and black hair thrown askew.

"James."

"Is this what you've done with the Moonseed? We can work this out Lily. The war, the war is almost over Voldem-"

"Voldemort's Death Eaters gain a greater foothold each day." She snapped at him, the potion momentarily forgotten at her side as tears streamed down her face; it contorted, her body convulsing with her sobs. "My sister was murdered years ago. Who knows where Peter is and we've been alone in this house for weeks, as soon as we step outside of the wards we'll be killed." She cast a glare at the door beyond James, "And always the crying."

Upstairs he heard it, his three year old son Harry crying. His son intimately felt both the tension in their home and the war waging on in the outside world. "He is empathetic and magic sensitive beyond his years. He doesn't know any better."

"Well we should have!" She screamed at him.

James took a step back, as if struck. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." She looked down and closed her eyes but the tears never stopped. "We never should have had him."

"You didn't mean that Lil."

Her eyes brimming with tears and burning with rage bored holes into his skull and he stepped further back. "Of course I mean that! We were 20 years old when we had Harry – and look at us. Look at him. He deserves better." She looked back at her feet and eyed the potion in her hand. "We deserve better than to be hunted like dogs for our son's birthday."

"Look at me." James pleaded with her. But Lily refused to meet his intense hazel eyes. And he knew that there was nothing he could do for the woman he loved. "What do I tell Harry?" He quietly asked her, broken.

"Tell him nothing." She replied distantly.

"He loves you. And I know that you love him."

"Love won't end this war. And love won't bring our friends back."

"You have me. I love you."

Lily took one last look at her husband searching within herself to feel again. But as always came up short. "I've fallen in love with another. Someone who can give me what I want."

James' eyes widened in shock, his heart breaking more than it already had. Only two words found the tip of his tongue. "Who? Why?..."

And only one word found Lily's. "Death."

Lily's last word spoken she brought the vial to her lips and swallowed before James had taken a step towards her.

One step - she dropped the vial, shattering upon the floor, but it fell on deaf ears.

Two steps - he was running now and she turned to look at him with an unreadable expression.

Three steps - he was so close and he could already see the effects of the Moonseed Poison she brewed her eyes rolled back into her eyes and the veins in her neck and chest began to blacken.

Four steps – he could almost reach out and grab her but it was too late. She fell, crumpled like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Five Steps – He dropped to his knees and held out his arms to catch her before she unceremoniously tumbled to the ground.

James knew that the tears were already in his eyes, threatening to fall from his nose and onto the face of his beautiful wife. When he spoke it was barely more than a whisper and if he could focus on anything else he would have realized the crying had stopped.

"Lily?... Lily?..." He shook her lightly and pressed a kiss to her lips hoping that maybe it had failed. In his heart of hearts though James knew – Lily always was a fantastic brewer. He muttered her name over and over again silently as if trying to wake her as she slept as he had done the years after they graduated and before this nightmare started.

And when James thought it could get no worse he heard the word that used to bring him so much joy – but now it only served to drive the knife deeper into his shattered heart. "Dad?"

' _Please no… No no no no. Not now. Not right now.'_ Not like this. James couldn't have his son see what the war had pushed his mother to. And as he turned around to look at his darling Harry the rest of his heart broke. Harry stood there – one hand on the doorway in his Golden Snitch pajama pants and a t-shirt with an illustration of a bludger, the words "Beat It" written across the front.

James wanted nothing more than to shield his boy from the horror of what had happened but it was too late. The look on his son's face told James everything he needed to know. Harry would never be the same again.

* * *

For the next three years James did everything in his power to be the parent Harry deserved. He knew that his son was deeply affected by what he had witnessed in the basement all those years ago but Harry was strong. Soon he stopped crying, like he knew the two would need to be strong – for each other. Harry was a quiet boy. The two barely talked about what had happened and James dreaded when Harry was even older and came to truly understand what exactly his mother had done.

Harry missed his mother and there were times when James would hear him softly crying in his room, when he thought his father was asleep, but as a whole Harry was growing up a happy boy under the loving and watchful eyes of his father. Harry had a pale complexion, only further emphasized by his unruly jet black hair and his mother's piercing emerald eyes. Looking into his son's eyes always filled James with both love and sadness. He remembered his late wife, and knew that he needed to do right by their son.

Harry's complexion was mostly due to the small amount of time they spent outside of the house. James barely left the protection the wards that Godric's Hollow provided and he made sure that Harry never left the property. It made for a relatively lonely experience at times. But more often than not Moony and Padfoot made up for it.

His two remaining best friends stopped by as often as they could and Harry adored the visits from his godfather and "Uncle Moony." When they visited James could almost forget that there was a war going on.

"I wish Wormtail could have been here." James said with Remus in the living room; Sirius was with Harry in the back trying to get him on a broom.

"I know, and you don't know for sure that he's gone." Remus offered, trying to be optimistic but his tone said everything his words did not.

"It's been three years Moony the Prophet declared him dead after the first," James said. But after a moment he smirked slightly "but the rat always did know how to slip out of trouble." The two old friends shared a morbid chuckle and looked behind at Sirius playing with his godson.

"I'm curious, James," Remus began, and James turned once again to look at him "why did you never select another Secret Keeper?" James cracked another slightly morbid smile and shrugged slightly, running a hair through his eternally messy hair.

"With what's going on outside I can't imagine we would be getting many visitors other than the two of you and Albus anyway." At the mention of outside he looked back at where his son was, but rather he looked beyond.

The war had reached a stalemate. Neither the Ministry and the Order, nor the Death Eaters have gained much ground in the last three years. Word from the Order was that Voldemort was searching for something. And James feared that it was his son. There were incidents with Muggles almost every week but other than that things have been far too quiet. "What is that arsehole waiting for?..." James muttered under his breath.

"Whatever it is – the bastard won't stay still for long he's psychotic." Sirius said as he came in through the backdoor, hands clasped tightly over Harry's ears so he wouldn't hear the language of his father and godfather. Harry beat his fists against Sirius' legs trying to free his head from Sirius' iron grip. Harry's right fist slid too far to the left as he beat against his godfather's legs and with a rather highpitched squeak emitting from the much larger man, Sirius tumbled to the ground convulsing and grabbing at his crotch crying about "Little Sirius."

James and Remus immediately laughed at their friends' misfortune. Upon seeing Sirius' reaction as well as James' and Remus' Harry too laughed at his godfather curled up on the floor. James smiled, happy that despite everything his boy was growing up loved and cared for. After dinner Remus and Sirius left, mentioning they needed to get back to headquarters for various assignments. James and Harry both bid them goodbye with tight hugs.

* * *

That night James sat at the kitchen table with Harry, overseeing basic reading and writing lessons. School may not start for five years, but if Harry couldn't read and write by then he'd be woefully unprepared. It was Halloween night and James wished he could be taking Harry trick-or-treating around the neighborhood, instead of keeping him cooped inside. As Harry practiced his quillwork he suddenly stopped, looking up at his father. "Dad… I'm scared."

"Ha, ha Harry that's not going to work you have twelve more lines to go." James said to him rolling his eyes. Harry often tried to get out of these lessons complaining about the inefficiencies of a quill and mentioning how a pen just made more sense. To his credit, James could not disagree.

James looked down at his son and immediately changed his tune. Harry was shaking slightly, staring at the front door like a creature from his nightmares would burst through at any second. James stood up from the table and looked at Harry "Go upstairs to your room." Harry had always been sensitive to both magic and emotions, far more so than James ever had been and it never hurt to be safe. James heard the soft padding of Harry's feet as he ran upstairs oblivious to the lack of a door opening or closing.

James slowly drew his wand as he walked towards the front door prepared to look through the glass peephole. As he arrived at the door a soft click was his only warning as the door was blasted off of its hinges. James' eyes quickly widened as he dove out of the way ensuring to keep his wand above his head as he rolled so as not to break it. As he jumped to his feet he turned around and it was a nightmare come true.

There, garbed in a simple black robe with no shoes to speak of stood Lord Voldemort in all of his dreadful glory. He exuded an aura of terrible charisma and power. James knew that more than anything though, his face would haunt him for the rest of his days _'As many as those are,'_ he thought grimly to himself. Where a nose should have been there was none, only slitted nostrils, above which two crimson red eyes and vertical slit pupils were perched; not unlike a snake. _'Is he even human?'_

"James… Potter." Voldemort could not stop the almost giddy like smile that broke out upon his face. "Sorry about the door, how incredibly rude of me, a mutual friend of ours just told me about this lovely cottage and I had to come see it for myself." James couldn't believe his ears.

"Wormtail…" He muttered without intending to. The friend they all thought dead had betrayed them. "Why now?" James couldn't help but ask.

"He didn't want to help us at first. It took four years to break Pettigrew. The Fidelius Charm is an extraordinary thing." Voldemort's thoughts wandered to the first year they attempted to extract this location from Wormtail's mind. "You cannot bewitch, blackmail or torture the secret from the Keeper. Something we learned after a year of trying." The cruel smile never left Voldemort's face. James was at a loss, one fist tightly clenched his wand, the other tightened on itself drawing blood from his palm. "After a year we just locked him away force feeding him, keeping him alive on a miserable existence until he voluntarily told us the secret. Well… Voluntarily enough for the intent of the charm apparently." At that it seemed that Voldemort's face threatened to crack under the stress of his hideous smile.

"You and your mudblood whore should have joined me when you had the chance six years ago Potter." Voldemort's mention of Lily and the manner in which he did so threw James into a murderous rage. All thoughts of conversation and self-preservation left him and he began the attempt to expel the blight of the Wizarding World from his home. He skipped completely past stunners and began casting higher level curses with every intent to maim or kill Voldemort.

James was no Auror though and had not dueled seriously since he graduated from Hogwarts. He had no need to work after graduation due to his large inheritance – supporting his family and even Sirius and Remus at various points.

It seemed that with every curse James cast Voldemort's smile simply got larger and larger. He sidestepped cutting curses and swatted arrows James had transfigured from the quills on the kitchen table like gnats out of the air. At one point James poured everything he had into a Reducto and seeing it Voldemort stared James in the eyes as it hit him the chest. James defiantly stared back and to his horror his curse had no effect on his opponent. At this Voldemort raised his wand and with no warning, no comment said one word. "Reducto."

At a speed James could not track, the spell sped towards him the most he could do was dive to one side; but it was not enough. The spell hit him in the shoulder and he cried out, the pain was worse than any bludger injury. As he looked down his right arm had just finished turning to dust, slowly falling to the ground and immediately being soaked with the blood that freely flowed from his arm, or lack thereof. James writhed on the ground in pain and for the second time in three years he heard the one word that could not have come at a worse time.

"DAD!" Harry screamed, unable to contain the worry he felt after seeing the Reductor Curse hit his father. Voldemort took a moment to look up the stairs behind him and locked eyes with Harry.

"Why, hello there." Voldemort said, suddenly turning away from James, dismissing him and stalking towards the stairs.

' _No… No no no… Not Harry.'_ And without truly thinking through his actions, and with speed James didn't realize he could still possess he forced himself between Voldemort and the stairs. "Don't you touch him. You'll have to take me first, you won't take another step forward!" He grimaced, wand forgotten in the pile of dust and blood his free hand attempting to staunch the flow of blood.

Voldemort's head slightly cocked to the side and with an almost invisible shrug of the shoulders placed his wand against James' chest. James looked down at the yew wand and almost missed the two words the spelled his end. "Avada Kedavra."

" _The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glow like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut…"_

 _-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_

Harry's eyes widened and tears that didn't fall welled at his eyes. He cried out for his father, screaming "DAD!" over and over, trying to wake him up. He was asleep, he had to be. But just like his mother so many years ago, he was not asleep, at least not a sleep he would ever wake from. And the realization broke something inside of Harry. The tears never fell and his screaming stopped. His emerald eyes looked up and found Lord Voldemort's crimson ones. He stared into them as Voldemort repeated those two terrible words and the green light once again filled the house.

But as the sickly green spell struck his forehead the strings of his marionette remained intact, however, he could never forget the way his father crumbled to the ground, the same way his mother did three years earlier. What happened afterwards was a blur. Harry vaguely remembered a ghastly wailing and a shockwave emitting from where Voldemort once stood. Harry's eyes eventually found James again staring at him as Albus Dumbledore and eventually Remus and Sirius entered the house. Words were spoken, tears were shed and Harry was sure he heard some shouting. Sirius eventually picked Harry up and left to take him home.

But Harry's eyes never left the body of his father.

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 **And there we have the first chapter. Please feel free to let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2 - And I'm Harry

**Disclaimer: The characters in this story and universe belong to J K Rowling alone.**

 **Author's Notes: Please realize - Harry and Sirius are both going to be very different from Rowling's characters. Sirius was a loose cannon - a product of his time in Azkaban, emotionally stunted and his flaws exacerbated due to his imprisonment. And Harry - Harry was guided by his own personal conscience with no parental figures to look up to. He learns to make his own decisions.**

 **Harry has both his parents in his earliest memories, and his father until he is six. In those early years he had the comfort of familiar paternal figure that he was without in canon. Emotional self awareness was possible for him when he lost the last of his parents, and even continuing to grow up he had Sirius. And Sirius inherited an incredible amount of responsibility causing him to mature much more than he was seen in books three through five.**

 **Both though, will hold their core values. Harry - honorable, brave, selfless but also prone to anger and impulsiveness. And Sirius - brave, loyal, and talented, but also reckless and rash at times. Harry's good traits were amplified by his upbringing, and the opposite was true for Sirius.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2 - And I'm Harry**

Sirius took Harry to live with him at 12 Grimmauld Place – the ancestral home to the most Ancient and Noble House of Black. The year before the tragedy that occurred at Godric's Hallow Sirius' mother Lady Walburga Black died. All of her worldly possessions including the house and her elf Kreacher passed to Sirius. Luckily Sirius was able to return to the house in time to remove and burn a terrible portrait his mother had made of herself.

Throughout the following years Sirius and Remus did their absolute best to fill the void in Harry's life. Harry had good days – days when he seemed like a normal child, spending time with an honorary uncle and his godfather. But more often than not those moments were few and far between. Harry had become withdrawn and solemn refusing to crumple into the nothingness as his parents had.

There was a week until Halloween and Sirius was bringing breakfast up to Harry's bed four years after the monster once known as Voldemort stole so much from his young godson. The week leading up to and after Halloween was always difficult for Harry. As he climbed the stairs to Harry's room Sirius thought back on the first word Harry spoke to him after bringing him to Grimmauld Place.

 _Sirius dropped off a tray with Harry's lunch, removing the tray containing his breakfast, hardly touched – like always. Sirius opened his mouth to say something but the words died on his lips as he looked at his godson. Harry stared out the pristine window looking at the outside world he spent so little time in. Sirius wasn't sure how much more he could handle. He missed James and Lily more than anything, they were the family he was never allowed to have and watching their legacy wither away under his care destroyed him._

 _With the breakfast tray he turned to leave the room and as he was closing the door he heard one word, barely audible over the creaking of the old oak door._

" _Why?" Sirius immediately reopened the door to its fullest and took a step back into the room._

" _What do you mea-" Sirius began unsure exactly what Harry was asking._

" _Why are they gone?! Why did she leave and why was he taken?!" Harry cried out the tears that never fell finally falling and the emotions he tried so hard to keep inside coming forth. "Why am I all alone?..." He sounded so broken._

" _Oh Pron- Harry…" Sirius began to call his godson by his father's nickname before correcting himself. "You aren't alone and you'll never be alone. You know your father's family took me in when I thought I was alone. As far as I am concerned, and as far as Moony is concerned you are family Harry."_ 'Prongslet' _Sirius corrected in his mind._

" _But why?" Harry was still unsatisfied. Alone or not – his parents were gone and he had no answers. Harry was beautifully ignorant of the war that raged on outside of Godric's Hallow for his entire life. Something James and Lily both agreed upon but that decision might have been a glorious mistake._

" _Harry – the man you saw last week was a monster. His name was Lord Voldemort and for as long as you've been born he was a very, very bad man to the whole world." Here, Sirius began to tell the tale of Voldemort's rise to power and the war._

" _But what does any of that have to do with me?" Harry cried out. "Why did he come after my dad?!" Harry didn't fully comprehend the depth of Voldemort's evil or the meaning of the war. What he did comprehend was that suddenly he was an orphan._

" _I don't know the whole story Prongslet," at the nickname so close to what he heard Sirius call his father so often his eyes widened and look slightly softened "but from what I understand Voldemort thought you and your parents were the key to defeating him."_ 'And in the end you were… But at what cost?' _Sirius thought to himself._

" _Why didn't they try?" Harry asked his godfather, voice barely louder than a whisper. "They knew he was after us and they just hid."_

" _Harry they wanted to protect you – you were the most important thing in the world to them." Lily's actions when Harry was three said otherwise but Sirius did not put words to those thoughts._

" _They weren't ready." Harry said as he finally looked Sirius in the eyes. "They weren't ready."_

" _Don't worry Harry, you finally got rid of him though – he's gone and won't hurt anyone else." Harry didn't believe Sirius, and unlike his parents he would be ready._

Since that conversation Harry surrounded himself in literature, reading everything he could find. On more than one occasion Sirius had to order books to keep Harry from delving into the darker books found around Grimmauld Place. Harry had read more about magical theory in the past four years than Sirius had in his entire life, including his time at Hogwarts – that being said, Sirius' life was not the epitome of intellectual pursuit.

Sirius knocked on the door to Harry's room announcing his presence, "Prongslet?" he continued knocking and slowly opened the door. As always Harry's bed was neatly made, and books were stacked to a comical height at his desk, but there was no Harry. Sirius was immediately curious and admittedly, a little concerned. Harry hardly ever left his room on the second floor – not that he was not permitted to, but simply a lack of interest. Anything he needed was fetched by either himself or Kreacher.

Kreacher had fallen in love with Harry. While he loyally served Sirius due to his status as Lord Black, Kreacher was enamored with the "Young Master." Thinking of Kreacher Sirius immediately summoned him, perhaps the old family elf would know where Harry was. "Kreacher!" With a soft but audible "pop" the aging house elf appeared before Sirius.

Kreacher had loved his mistress and it had almost been like a part of Kreacher died with her. Unlike most House Elves his nose was short, bulbous and not unlike a snout. He had long white hairs growing from his ears. "Master calls for Kreacher?" Kreacher respectfully asked; a small amount of sourness crept into his tone of voice. Kreacher still was trying to find it within himself to get over the fact that Sirius was considered a disgrace by his late mistress.

"Do you know where Harry is?" Sirius inquired of the aging elf.

"The Young Master took his books down to the drawing room." He replied succinctly.

"Thank you Kreacher." Sirius thanked Kreacher offhandedly as he strode past him to head downstairs and into the sitting room without waiting for a reply.

"Kreacher does as Kreacher is told. Except for Master's last order…" Sirius, hearing Kreacher reply but unable to decipher the exact words turned around to question the elf once more. However, once he was facing the spot the elf once stood Kreacher was already gone. Shrugging, Sirius continued downstairs.

Ensuring not to startle Harry as he walked in; Sirius called his name from the hallways before turning into the drawing room "Harry!" The drawing room was an incredibly large room with windows facing the front side of the house. There were two couches facing each other in the middle of the room with a table in between them. The fireplace raged along one wall with a grand piano on the wall opposite. In front of the fireplace sat a large chair next to which was a table and decanter filled with brandy.

When Sirius stepped into the large room he was greeted with the sight of his godson relaxing on one of the couches laying down and holding his book up in the air as he read, completely oblivious to his godfather calling for him and walking into the room. "Harry?" Sirius called one more time as he walked closer.

No response still.

Sirius walked right behind the arm of the couch Harry was using to prop his head up. With a mischievous smirk Sirius bent down and quickly wedged his head between the book and his godson's face contorting his features as he did so. "Good book?" Harry let out a cry of surprise and was treated to a face-full of "The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection" by Quentin Trimble. In his surprise he dropped the book he was reading flat on his face and Sirius immediately fell on his rear laughing at his godson's misfortune.

He immediately regretted his decision as he had to swiftly dodge a quickly incoming tome aimed (quite well) at his head. The book turned projectile only made Sirius laugh more finding the situation funnier by the minute. As his laughter died down he wiped the tears from his eyes and looked at his godson who did not find the situation as amusing. Harry stood up from the couch absently rubbing his nose which had taken the brunt of the rather large book. Sirius was able to really look at his godson for the first time in a long time.

The ten year old boy, nearly eleven, would be heading to Hogwarts at the end of the upcoming summer and Sirius was sure that he was more nervous for it than Harry was. Harry's jet black hair was as unruly as James' ever was and his emerald green eyes were dulled behind both his glasses and his life experiences. Sirius was no Molly Weasley; who was legendary for her cooking and raising of her seven children, but he and Kreacher made sure Harry was being fed properly and it showed. Harry grew quickly nearing Sirius' chest at ten years old. At 177 centimeters though, Sirius was no giant and James was a good bit taller than he. _'Not boy, young man. No boy has eyes that hard.'_ Sirius inwardly thought to himself. Sirius could remember after graduation at the height of the war when Lily's eyes lost their innocent spark and looked exactly like Harry's did now. It was only amplified because Harry's eyes looked exactly like Lily's. _'I won't lose him too.'_

"You know Padfoot, you could have just called my name…" Harry told Sirius hands placed on his hips in indignation.

"I did. About twelve times." Sirius told him, mirth still present in his face and smile. At that Harry had the decency to look embarrassed and his eyes flicked down to the ground before once again meeting his godfather's eyes, questioning why he wanted to find him. "I was just bringing you lunch and a cuppa, I left the tray up in your room."

"How many times do I need to tell you, you don't need to bring me lunch I'm not a little kid anymore." Harry said, exacerbated. _'No. But you should be.'_ The sad thought crossed Sirius' mind.

"Oh you're always going to be little Prongslet to me." Sirius replied with a cheeky grin. Harry rolled his eyes, oblivious to his maturity in relation to others his age.

"I'll go eat that then, after that can we go flying?" Harry asked his godfather, with a tinge of hope.

For as long as Sirius could remember, Harry had a pure unadulterated love of flying. Thankfully, that love of flying was not stripped of him from Voldemort like most everything else. Sirius was not the strictest of guardians, he knew that, but when it came to flying Sirius could never say no to his young charge. True happiness was so rare for Harry and denying him the chance through a broom seemed almost criminal to him.

"Of course, make sure you either take it down to the kitchen after or call Kreacher – my mother would roll in her grave otherwise. ' _Blood Traitors, the lot of you. How dare you sully the house of my father's?!'_ " Sirius mimicked the shrieking of his late mother; thankful, not for the first time, that her portrait was not still in the entryway.

"Kreacher would go spare if he saw me doing it myself anyway." Harry mentioned as he collected his previously thrown book and walked out of the room. Sirius couldn't help but think that his godson was doing much better this time around than in years past.

About an hour later Harry met Sirius back in the drawing room in front of the fireplace. They were both dressed quite warm for the weather, as it was getting colder outside. Sirius held his old Cleansweep Five from his days in Hogwarts – he never played Quidditch so he never felt the need to spend the money on the newer Cleansweep Six. Harry was holding his Nimbus 1700, James always joked that Harry had expensive taste and was always partial to the Nimbus Brooms versus the Cleansweeps and Comets. Rumor had it that a new Nimbus Broom would be released that year, Sirius thought that might be Harry's birthday present this year.

As 12 Grimmauld Place was nestled between two other homes in the middle of Muggle London there was no usable plot of land for the two to fly so to do so they would take the floo to one of many other properties the Black and Potter families owned. The only one they never stepped foot in was Godric's Hallow. A favorite of theirs was a small three bedroom cottage in the Central Lowlands of Scotland. They could fly for half an hour in any direction and not see another soul magical or otherwise.

As expected Harry entered the fireplace with a pinch of floo powder and shouted out "The Valley!" Sirius shook his head and thought to himself _'Henry Potter could have been more creative while naming his properties.'_ The aforementioned cottage sat in the middle of a large valley owned and warded off by Henry Potter, James' grandfather and Harry's great-grandfather. Without hesitation Sirius followed his godson through the floo.

As expected Harry was already out the front door and probably in the air. Sirius stepped out of the floo rather shakily and looked around. The cottage was incredibly dusty from disuse. No one had lived here since James' parents used it early in their marriage. All of the furniture was covered in sheets and the shutters were drawn on all of the windows to prevent sun damage. An incredibly old portrait of an old Potter stood with crossed arms and a giant smile on his face, wearing a cloak with a fairly simple emblem of a circle within a vertically bisected triangle. The enchantment breathing life into the portrait had long since worn off, with no one recasting the charms.

Sirius had seen the photograph dozens of times but this time his eyes wandered to the cloak and emblem wondering where he had seen it before. The answer was on the tip of his tongue before the windows and shutters shook as if a great wind was tearing the valley asunder.

Sirius grinned knowing Harry was flying incredibly low to the ground and instead of chastising him he quickly ran out of the cottage to join him. The Sign of the Deathly Hallows lost in the joys of flying. It took longer than he was proud to admit but Sirius eventually caught up to his godson before he heard a sound that put any magic to shame.

A child's laugh.

It was almost melodic, and Sirius almost couldn't believe it. He hadn't heard Harry truly laugh in four years. _'At the expense of little Sirius...'_ And after hearing it he stared at his godson forgetting completely what he was doing. All of a sudden Harry pulled up on his broom climbing into the air at nearly ninety degrees and Sirius turned his head up watching his godson and smiling. He was about to hear a lot more of Harry's laugh.

There was a clear snapping sound and a dull thud and Harry immediately halted his climb, leveling out his broom and looking down at where his godfather should be. Harry quickly flew to the ground, touching down and was greeted with the sight of his godfather, and his right arm bent at the elbow at an unnatural degree. "Bloody hell this hurts."

Despite the situation and obvious pain Harry could not help but laugh at his godfather who had obviously crashed into the tree Harry avoided with his steep climb. "How did you miss the giant oak tree?" And immediately began laughing again. "I guess you didn't! HAHAHA!"

As happy as Sirius normally was to hear joy in his godson's voice he did not feel that this was an appropriate time. "Harry I'm in pain!" His declaration did nothing to curb the laughter. "Harry I'm serious!" If anything Harry began to laugh harder, dropping to the ground and clutching his stomach.

"And I'm Harry!" Tears fell freely from Harry's eyes at his own joke.

Sirius just closed his eyes and shook his head, clutching his arms. _'Fuck me sideways, I thought that joke died with James. He really is your son Prongs.'_ Once Harry was able to compose himself – with a lot of glaring from Sirius, he helped his godfather to his feet and helped him to the cottage and took the floo to St. Mungo's.

* * *

In the following months Sirius tried to draw that same laugh out of his Godson but found himself unable, unless they had brooms in hand. Flying just brought the best out of Harry; he was almost a different person. Harry on a broomstick was the ten year old that who was unaffected by Voldemort.

Harry and Sirius had just finished flying in The Valley and were walking back to the cottage laughing about their latest excursion. "I think I almost fell off my broom trying to follow you as your corkscrewed during that dive!" Sirius exclaimed opening the door for his godson.

Harry cracked a smile as he walked into the door his godfather opened, but the longer he stayed on the ground the euphoria of flying wore off. By the time he reached the fireplace the smile was gone and replaced with cold apathy. Harry's voice cut through the silence in the cottage "12 Grimmauld Place!" With a flash of green, he was gone.

' _One day Harry. One day.'_ With that thought, Sirius followed Harry home.

"Finally!" Sirius was greeted to a volume he didn't know Harry possessed. He chuckled slightly at the crack in Harry's voice and looked around the drawing room for his godson. Sirius saw him scrambling to open a window.

"You uh… Hot? Harry?" Sirius asked. It felt quite comfortable to him and he did not know why his godson was trying to open the window with the ferocity of a man trying to escape from an Azkaban escapee.

"Honestly Sirius. Help me with this!" Harry exclaimed moving to the side and revealing a great brown post owl.

"Oh… That makes more sense." They received post every few days, Sirius was still puzzled at Harry's rare enthusiasm but opened the window to allow the owl entrance. "Oh…" He said with realization. _'Draco Dormiens Nunquam_ Titilandus' He thought. The owl flew in and dropped a letter on the nearest table before quickly flying out the window, gone as soon as it came.

And sitting on the table was a letter addressed to his godson;

 _MR. H POTTER_

 _Second Floor Bedroom,_

 _12 Grimmauld Place,_

 _Islington_

 _London._

On the back and imprinted into the crimson wax used to seal the envelope was the proud seal of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

 **Author's Notes!**

 **That's Chapter 2! Please let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Welcome Back

**Disclaimer: The characters in this story and universe belong to J K Rowling alone.**

 **Author's Notes: Thank you to the few of you that have been reviewing, I very, very very much appreciate it, if you are enjoying the story so far please let me know in a review! And if you aren't, let me know how I can make it better!**

 **This chapter has turned out much larger than either of the two chapters. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing so let me know what you think about the length! If you are more into the longer length, recognize it might take me longer in between updates.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3 - Welcome Back**

"I can't believe you still own that shirt Prongslet." Sirius lightly teased his godson as they walked through Muggle London towards the Leaky Cauldron. The shirt in question was the same one he wore seven years prior; the t-shirt with a bludger with the words "Beat-It" written across. Harry looked down and his cheeks pinkened slightly but he said nothing. Throughout the years Sirius had received requests to magically alter it so that it would keep fitting. Today was the first time Sirius mentioned anything about it, and had he known its history he never would have said anything.

Both were wearing muggle clothing as they walked the streets of London towards the Leaky Cauldron. "Is this McGonagall woman serious?" Harry asked for the third time, changing the subject.

"The broomstick thing again Harry? Unfortunately she is. However, I've always seen the words and regulations of your Deputy Headmistress as guidelines rather than hard fast rules." Sirius replied with a grin. At this Harry shook his head, well aware of his godfather's history at Hogwarts.

"So does that mean no flying at all my first year?" Harry asked with a sense of dread, kicking a stone down the sidewalk as the two continued their walk.

"Oh no, there are flying lessons for first years." Harry blanched at this, imagining an oaf holding onto broomsticks and leading students around the castle grounds barely hovering above the ground. Sirius let out his bark-like laugh at his sullen godson who scowled and kicked his stone even harder sending it bouncing several meters away. Thankfully, it missed the shins of any poor unsuspecting muggles. "Additionally – you can fly 'under supervision' and some first years even try out for their house's Quidditch teams!"

Harry's steps stuttered at this news. Despite the exorbitant amount of flying he had done in his childhood he had never played Quidditch. He knew the rules and positions and thought to himself about trying out. The game itself was not terribly interesting to him. But flying was one of the few things he truly found enjoyment from. Throwing a ball through a hoop or hitting a large enchanted iron ball around a pitch did not appeal to him though. "Ugh. All the positions are so… Boring." Harry complained, continuing to kick his stone.

"Prongs would be so wounded! He loved being a Chaser!" Sirius exclaimed, not expecting Harry's response, knowing how much his godson loved flying.

"That might be the worst, followed closely by Keeper!" Harry said letting out a long exacerbated sigh.

"Well, have you put any thought towards Seeker?" Sirius asked. At his question Harry looked up and Sirius could clearly see his brain working. Watching a ten year old's thought process was admittedly hilarious and Sirius had to stop himself from outright laughing at his godson.

' _Seeker hm?'_ Harry had never put any thought to the position. Their one job was to not crash, or get hit by anything. And catch the Golden Snitch. That was something more relevant to his interests. No silly goal scoring or goal keeping, and no cricket on a broom. Following the extremely fast and agile snitch would be challenging, and dodging the Bludgers and other players would be exhilarating in a way dodging trees wouldn't be able to match. Unfortunately (or fortunately) the oaks in the Scottish Lowlands did not move much.

As usual Harry did not reply to Sirius, lost in his thoughts. Even the stone, which had been his victim for fifteen blocks, was forgotten as Harry thought more about the possibility of trying out for Quidditch at Hogwarts. Sirius, seeing Harry's thoughtfulness needed no response and gave a soft smile.

Before long the two were outside of the Leaky Cauldron and Sirius opened the door, ringing a bell, and he held it open for Harry allowing him to walk in before Sirius did himself. As he held the door open he found himself staring at a young woman walking along the sidewalk across the street. She looked up and saw him, looking him in the eyes with an unreadable expression. Ever the flirt, Sirius gave her a wolfish grin and a wink before turning and following his godson. Walking in he ran into Harry slightly who had paused in the doorway, frozen. Sirius looked down curiously wondering what was wrong before he realized it was almost totally silent in the pub.

No one spoke.

Sirius looked around and everyone was staring at him; or rather, his godson directly in front of him. _'Bullocks.'_ Sirius slowly stepped in front of Harry, subconsciously acting as a shield for his godson. _'Fucking hell.'_ He realized; Harry had never been seen by the wizarding world. For six years after James, Lily, Sirius and Remus graduated from Hogwarts Voldemort waged constant war on the world vying for, and gaining, power. Three years after graduation he had almost succeeded before suddenly – he stopped. The waiting was almost worse than warfare. The fear of "when" had the world on edge, they were beating themselves and all Voldemort had to do was sit back and wait. Suddenly though, according to Albus Dumbledore, he was gone. Thanks to one Harry Potter - the last person to have seen Voldemort alive.

"The-Boy-Who-Lived" the world was calling him.

Utter shite it was. And the people in this pub were the first to ever see him. _'My godson is a fucking celebrity and I'm a goddamned idiot.'_ Sirius knew, of course, of his godson's status. So too did Harry. But knowing about it and experiencing it were two very different things. No _Prophet_ reporters were ever able to get to 12 Grimmauld Place, and both Harry and Sirius spent most of their time in Muggle London or at The Valley.

Harry was not ready for this.

A small and incredibly excited man in a dark red top hat reached around his godfather and began shaking Harry's handed quickly and excitedly. "Harry Potter! Dedalus Diggle, such an honor to meet you!" After nearly five handshakes Harry slowly retreated further behind his godfather.

"Uh… And you as well Mr. Diggle." Harry replied quietly, uncomfortable with the suffocating attention of the bar. Sirius stepped between the two of them, and Harry swore he heard his uncle emit a growl. Dedalus' glee was amplified when his greeting was reciprocated and was not swayed at all at Sirius' protective actions.

As the two attempted to navigate through the bar more and more people approached Harry who was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Sirius was at his wits end when the two finally got to the bar, so undeniably close to the door that would lead them to Diagon Alley when they ran into a man. Sirius sized him up; the man was bald, wearing black robes and he was timid, unbelievably so, trembling heavily and unable to look either Harry or Sirius in the eyes.

"Harry P-P-Potter so wonderful t-to meet you." Immediately Sirius and Harry were taken aback by how timorous the man was. He could not get through a sentence without stuttering. Not due to any sort of speech impediment, this stuttering was different – it was entirely driven from nervousness.  
"Q-Quirinus Q-Quirrell, I will be your t-teacher for Defense Against the D-Dark Arts." After his introduction Professor Quirrell extended his hand to Harry in greeting.

Harry was honestly surprised that the stuttering man in front of him would be teaching hundreds of children a day. He, however, was pleased to be meeting one of his instructors and wanted to make a good impression and took hold of the extended hand. "My pleasure sir." Harry replied succinctly. After a quick shake Quirrell broke off the handshake and gave the two a quick nod, before quickly escaping further down the bar. Sirius shook his head at the man and led Harry out the back door.

Once outside, Sirius sheepishly apologized to his godson for the debacle. "Finally; vultures, the lot of them, sorry Harry I can't say I expected that." Sirius was met with silence. He looked down at his godson; trembling nearly as badly as Quirrell was and staring at the ground. "Harry?" Sirius reached out to touch Harry's shoulder but was shrugged off. Tears threatened to fall from Harry's eyes.

"I miss my dad. And my mom."

"Me too."

Harry's parents were gone – none of those people saw that though, they saw their hero. Not the price a young boy paid. Just like that; the proud, strong young man Sirius had watched grow up crumbled away and he was given a glimpse of the hurt child Harry desperately tried to repress. "We don't need to do this today Prongslet." Harry sighed.

"I want to." And that was that. "Where's the Alley?" He asked Sirius, wiping his eyes and looking around. All he saw in the walled courtyard was an old, surprisingly empty dustbin.

Thankful for the change of topic Sirius barked out a laugh and drew his wand. He knew he immediately had Harry's attention. For the son of a proud pureblood family Harry was obsessed with Magic. Every spell and bit of magic he witnessed was like the first. He was drawn to it and tried to absorb any amount of knowledge. Sirius smiled. "Watch this."

Harry was undoubtedly excited. However, instead of a spell Sirius took his wand and starting from the dust bin began counting bricks upwards. "1, 2, 3, 1, 2." Like the movement of a knight on a chess board he counted up three and two to the right. Finding the correct brick Sirius turned around and smiled at Harry. Harry felt the excitement well up within him again. This was it, his godfather was going to charm the bricks and create a portal to another part of London.

Sirius flourished his wand drawing it back and twirling it in a complicated manner. Harry leaned forward, anticipating the incantation. His godfather thrust his wand forward with the speed and grace of an accomplished duelist; before stopping its movement hovering barely in front of the aforementioned brick.

"Boop." With that, Sirius lightly tapped the brick and the wall began to shake, the entire courtyard was racked by tremors. All of the bricks on the wall were rotating and shifting, opening a large hole.

Once the bricks had all been moved Harry could see the alley, packed so full with people he could not even read the signs of the shops that lined the street. All of the people wore robes of different colors moving quickly and with purpose, the dull roar of absent chatter washed over Harry's ears and he slowly turned toward his godfather glaring. Sirius met Harry's glare with a shit-eating grin. "I hate you." With that Sirius reached out and poked Harry in the nose lightly.

"Boop." Sirius' grin was infectious and slowly Harry's glare melted away and a small smile spread across Harry's face. "Come on! We have a lot to pick up!" Sirius lightly shoved Harry into the alley knowing Harry would want to see everything. "Gringotts is towards the back so we'll pick up some gold and start from the back before working our way back towards the Leaky Cauldron!"

Harry knew the choice was out of his hands so he nodded absentmindedly trying to absorb as much of the Alley as he could. Sirius kept up a moderate pace to Harry's chagrin he wanted to stop into many of the shops but knew that they would get back to them eventually. Three shops down though one store in particular actually made Harry stop. There was a crowd of children of various ages pressed against the window of a shop talking excitedly. Harry was not close enough to hear whole conversations but he was close enough to hear snippets.

"-fastest ever!"

"-us 2000!"

"the Cleansweeps do-"

"-nadoes all have them!"

Harry's eyes drifted to the sign of the shop and his heart jumped slightly in his chest when he realized he was in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies. And in the window was the broom he had been dreaming about for the last three months; the _Nimbus 2000_. It absolutely outstripped his Nimbus 1700 and blew the Cleansweep Six out of the water. Harry looked around for his godfather quickly who met his gaze with one of his own. Sirius watched with mirth as Harry went through the realization quickly. "Stupid McGonagall…" Sirius could not help but laugh as he led Harry down the Alley towards Gringotts.

As they walked down Diagon Alley a few people had recognized Harry and did nothing to hide their blatant pointing and exclamations. Harry did his best to ignore them though, and Sirius did his best to intimidate them with harsh glares and bared teeth. The angrier and more protective he got, the more Padfoot came to the surface.

Before too long Harry and Sirius reached the regal white marble steps to Gringotts Bank. Harry felt the need to brush Harry up on proper etiquette while dealing with the managers of the bank. "Remember Harry, Gringotts is run by goblins. They're incredibly intelligent and one of the only things they detest more than theft is their treatment by wizards." Harry responded with a nod and they climbed the stairs to a set of polished bronze doors guarded by two pike wielding goblins wearing gold and red uniforms.

Harry dipped his head in greeting of the two as they walked through the doors. As the past the two goblins turned giving each other puzzled looks. Sirius could not help but be slightly puzzled either. Lack of contempt was one thing, but what Harry showed was outright respect. Sirius paid it no mind though and continued through the entrance hall to a second set of doors. The second pair of doors was made of goblin forged silver and they were engraved with an old goblin poem.

" _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed_

 _For those who take, but do not earn_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there."_

 _-Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

Harry hungrily read the poem contemplating its words before they entered Gringotts Bank in earnest. Inside was a long marble hall flanked by counters that stretched the entire length of the room. Harry estimated there were roughly fifty goblins on each side of the hall, all busy with various tasks. Writing statements, measuring out coins, stamping deeds Harry was fascinated but was hurried along by Sirius. They moved to the nearest unoccupied goblin and waited at the counter for him to acknowledge their presence.

The goblin wore glasses that hung at the edge of his long hooked nose and he slowly and methodically moved pieces of parchment from one pile to another, stamping them as he exchanged piles. A permanent scowl rested on his face; and as he finished the last stamp he ran his long fingers through his thinning white hair, placing his quill into the inkwell and looking down on the two wizards. "What is it that you need today?"

"Harry Potter and Sirius Black Lords of houses Potter and Black are here for statements and withdrawals." Sirius stated dryly. Harry watched his godfather; observing his posture and making mental notes of how he spoke to the goblin. Everything pointed to an air of superiority, something Harry desperately wanted to ask Sirius about.

"And do _Lords_ Potter and Black have their vault keys?" The goblin asked Sirius with a slight sneer, his eyebrows furrowed and his sharp teeth snarled slightly as if challenged. At his inquiry both Harry and Sirius procured their keys. "Very well, if you will enter the room behind me an associate will be with you shortly." Without acknowledgement Sirius stepped around the corner into said room before hurrying to follow him Harry gave the goblin a quick nod, and an almost unnoticeable bend at the waist. The goblin raised an eyebrow in question at the bow as Harry hurried behind the counter, but eventually got back to work.

The room turned out to be a small office with a couch on one wall and a small desk and chair on the other. The office was undecorated and empty other than the aforementioned furniture. On the desk was a large roll of parchment and an inkwell and quill. Harry and Sirius were in the small office for less than a minute before a goblin walked in with a large ledger tucked under his arm. He walked behind the desk placing the tome down with a resounding thud and sitting in the chair.

"My name is Griphook and I have long handled the finances for House Black. At your behest I also took up managing the funds for House Potter six years ago Lord Black." Sirius nodded at this. When he took over as Harry's legal guardian he preferred to deal with the same goblin for all finances. "Where should I start?" He asked Sirius, deferring to him to lead the meeting.

"Might as well start with the Black finances." Sirius said wanting to get out as quickly as possible, but realizing he had not received an official briefing of his finances since becoming head of his family.

"Very well." Griphook passed Sirius a roll of parchment from his ledger before continuing. "You'll find a more complete depiction in your statement but abbreviating; the Black family has roughly a liquid fifty-five million galleons available in addition to various treasures, one house elf and the one property in London." After the summary he also handed Harry a roll of parchment. "The inventions of Skele-Grow, Pepper Potion and Sleekeazy's Hair Potion did wonders for House Potter. The purchase of various properties throughout the years has placed minor pressure on the Potter fortune, but nothing serious. In comparison to House Black, House Potter has a more humble thirty-two million galleons in addition to various treasures, a townhouse in West Country, the cottage in Scotland, a villa in France and the large estate in Wales."

Neither Sirius nor Harry did anything to hide their surprise, for different reasons though. Sirius had no idea that the reason the Potters were so affluent was because of the inventions of various potions. _'I wonder why James never told me. I wonder if he even knew.'_

Harry knew that both he and Sirius were well off, the size of Sirius' home and his father's lack of employment was proof enough of that. However, he had no idea that his family was so… Disgustingly wealthy. Harry was having a difficult time comprehending that amount of money. Harry was also revolted by Kreacher being referred to in the same sentence as Sirius' money and property holdings. There was something inherently wrong with labeling the elf that cared for him and whom he had meaningful conversations with as property.

As Harry was sorting through all of these thoughts Sirius stood, concluding the meeting and Griphook led them out of the office. The party of three walked to the end of the hallway and through a pair of golden doors. There the ornate marble hallways gave way to a dark and stony passageway lined with vaults. Griphook stepped into a cart in the middle of the passageway and motioned for Harry and Sirius to follow. "Hold on please." Griphook stated; his 'please' lacking any real sincerity, as if he didn't care in the least if they held on or not.

Almost immediately the car lurched forward acting less like a mine cart and more like a muggle roller coaster. Vaults accelerated past Harry faster than he could keep track of and each curve of the track threw the cart, pulling Harry to the side as if gravity was changing on him. Before he knew it the cart rapidly decelerated causing Harry to heave forward, if he hadn't be holding on he was sure he would have been ejected from the small vehicle. As Harry and Sirius exited the cart Sirius smiled at his godson, "Just like flying right?"

Harry nearly vomited. "Not at all." Flying was exhilarating and freeing, he could control every motion of his broom as if it was an extension of his body. The Gringotts carts however were every bit as fast, but with none of the control or anticipation. It was an experience Harry was not looking forward to repeating.

Harry and the others found themselves in front of a large circular door cut into the cavern. "Vault 687, your key, if you would please Mr. Harry Potter." Griphook extended his hand towards Harry expectantly. Harry placed the key in his hand and Griphook's long fingers closed around the golden key. He walked up to the vault door and revealed a small keyhole before inserting the key and unlocking the vault door and depressing a button in the shape of a hand with fingers so long the hand could not possibly belong to a human.

The door opened and Harry was greeted with the sight of his fortune. The vault was as large as the drawing room at Grimmauld place. But instead of pianos, couches and tables he was greeted with the sight of entire piles of gold; taller than Sirius and just as wide at the base. Harry stared at the room, seeing it on paper and hearing was one thing but seeing the money was entirely different. "And… This is all mine?" He tentatively asked Sirius; maybe Sirius and Harry had a combined vault, which might have made him feel slightly more comfortable.

"Gaudy, isn't it?" Sirius replied.

Harry and Sirius' vaults were close enough to each other that they were able to use the same stop for both vaults. After both Harry and Sirius had filled their bags with gold they returned to the cart where Sirius looked at his Godson and smiled. "It goes just as fast back up."

"Ugh." Harry groaned in anticipation.

"Backwards." Sirius looked like a Cheshire Cat. Harry just looked sick.

* * *

Once Harry and Sirius had reached Ollivander's Harry's world stopped spinning. "Why don't you go inside I have a bit of shopping I want to do." Sirius said to him. "Ollivander will help with everything you need and honestly, picking your wand will probably take a moment." Harry wanted to protest, but knew his godfather would not leave him without good reason and nodded. Sirius turned and left and Harry walked inside the shop.

* * *

"I don't want it." Harry said to the old wandmaker defiantly.

"I… do not understand." Ollivander replied puzzled. Never in all of his years of wandmaking had he seen a wizard refuse the wand that had chosen him.

"If this wand is truly the brother of that… man…" loathe as Harry was to call him that, "I don't want it." Harry had seen that wand disarm his father, figuratively and literally, murder his father and attempt to murder him as well. "If he was as terrible as everyone says I don't want to do with him, even remotely."

"Harry, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things, terrible yes, but great with that wand." Ollivander told him.

"And I don't care." Harry replied adamant in his decision.

"Very well." Ollivander resigned. If the wizard did not wish to work with the wand the bond would be non-existent anyway. Even worse than using a wand unsuited to the wizard. "The wand and wizard must lean on each other after all. It is a complex connection; more partnership than ownership." With that, Ollivander placed the eleven inch holly wand with the core of a Phoenix feather back into a box and placed it on the table of other wands that rejected Harry.

Ollivander retreated into the back of his shop and did not return for several minutes finally emerging with another wand box, unlike the others it was not made of the thin birch wood. The wand box was a rich mahogany and was clearly very old.

"This wand is a product of my hubris – I made it in my youth and after ten years of failing to find an owner I put it away and wished to have forgotten about it until now." Ollivander approached Harry with the box and removed the top. He stared down at the wand for a moment before taking it out ever so lightly and handing it to Harry handle first with a faint measure of hope in his eyes. "Elder and Threstral hair, fourteen inches – quite flexible." Harry blanched slightly at the mention of the wand's components. Both elder wood and Threstrals carried strong connotations of death.

Harry reached forward towards the wand and knew this one was different. As he reached that decision the wand jumped into his hand as his broomstick had done hundreds of times before. And suddenly, Harry felt contentment that was not his own. "This is the one, Mr. Ollivander." He said.

Ollivander's eyes glazed over as he stared at the wand. He looked at Harry and back at the wand. "Indeed, it would seem so."

"This isn't a normal wand, is it?" Harry asked the old wandmaker, thinking back on its introduction.

"No. No it is not. Long ago I thought myself the best wand maker in the world. And I sought to recreate a wand of legend without the faults it contained. The original wand was made of the same components, but was as stiff and unyielding as iron. The wand would rather cleanly shear than bend. You see Harry, the wand's flexibility is a direct reflection of the personality of the wand and wizard pair; the more flexible, the more willing and able to adapt. I thought to make a wand with untold power and imbue upon it the ability of adaptability. I was positive I had failed, as the wand never picked a wizard. But here, we are. I expect to see even greater things out of you than out of the man who gave you that scar."

Harry wracked his brain, trying to think of the legendary wand Ollivander attempted to replicate but could think of nothing in any of the books on wandlore and history of great wizards he had read. "Mr. Olliv-" Harry was interrupted by his godfather bursting into the store. And Harry turned towards him in his surprise.

"Have you gotten your wand yet Harry?" He asked a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"Oh, yeah Sirius, I believe I do." He replied

"Well hurry up and pay we still have to do all of your shopping!" Sirius exclaimed. Due to his pressuring Harry pulled out the requisite seven galleons and handed them to Mr. Ollivander biding him good day and the two exited the store. "You excited to own your very own wand there Prongslet?" Sirius asked his godson. Harry looked down at his hands where his wand still lay.

"Yeah. Yeah I am."

* * *

The two finished purchasing all of Harry's requisite school supplies as they headed back up the Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron. At each purchase Harry or Sirius summoned Kreacher to bring Harry's supplies back to Grimmauld Place to save themselves the trouble of hauling the purchases through the Alley. By the time Harry and Sirius had exited the Apothecary, they were finished with all of the shopping and the sun was beginning to set.

The Alley had emptied out considerably and Harry was given a direct line of sight of the _Nimbus 2000_ and he stared wistfully at it, all thoughts of legendary wands had gone from his mind. The store across from the Quality Quidditch Supplies also caught his eyes. There, across the street was Eeylops Owl Emporium.

"Hey Sirius, that McGonagall lady did say I could get an owl."

* * *

 **Author's Notes!**

 **And that's chapter three. Writing about Sirius and Harry's wealth was incredibly difficult for me. Rowling has never come out and said exactly how wealthy anyone in the Harry Potter universe is. However, I did a lot of my own research and calculations. The thing about the potions is actually canon. J.K. Rowling did say that's how the Potter's became as wealthy as they are. After the invention of the Skele-Grow potion every Potter contributed to increasing the wealth (except for James) mostly through inventions as opposed to conventional work.**

 **I am also using the movies when Harry opens his vault for the first time to find a basic volume of gold in Harry's vault. With some quick (and probably terribly wrong math) I got to the numbers you see above. Rowling does mention that James is able to support his family as well as Remus without working (not a cheap undertaking).**

 **As always, please let me know what you think of this chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4 - The Express

**Disclaimer: The characters in this story and universe belong to J K Rowling alone.**

 **Author's Notes: I want to thank triggbc and scrappy8 who have stuck with this since the beginning and have reviewed each chapter that's come out I really appreciate it you guys are awesome! Also HG4EVER69, Alisha and harryislife thank you guys as well for the reviews. I very much appreciate it and it's what keeps me going!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4 - The Express**

Harry walked outside of his room, stretching as he slowly padded towards the staircase leading down to the drawing room. A small smile graced his features realizing it was his birthday today. A week prior he had received his Hogwarts letter and they promptly took a trip to Diagon Alley. While the Leaky Cauldron was an experience Harry would be happy to forget he was ready to truly begin his education, his wand burning to learn from him, and he from it.

He was truly happy to have been able to convince Sirius to let him buy Hedwig. An "early birthday present" Sirius called her, despite the fact that Harry purchased the beautiful snow owl himself. That was all well though, he felt uncomfortable every year during his birthday and Christmas. Receiving gifts was something he was never truly prepared to do. If he was lucky, Harry could bug Sirius to floo to the Valley early today and spend the day flying. Kreacher could always bring them meals.

Kreacher.

Thinking of the old elf reminded Harry of Kreacher's position on the goblin's statement of Sirius' effects. Their _property_ and the way Sirius looked at and dealt with the goblins was equally puzzling as well as disturbing. Was Sirius not the very one who warned Harry about the goblins' distaste about their own mistreatment?

All of these thoughts crossed Harry's mind as he reached the top of the stairs. And there he saw his godfather missing an arm and defiantly standing in front of the man that haunted his dreams for the past four years. Voldemort's crimson eyes met his own, Harry's mouth agape in horror and that cloying smile seemed to grow with each passing moment. The sickly green light filled the hallway and stairwell casting shadows on the wall behind him and Harry could not look away as his godfather crumpled to the ground.

* * *

The moment Sirius' head lifelessly hit the ground Harry was jolted awake by a familiar presence. "Kreacher comes as soon as Kreacher could Young Master." Harry could do nothing to acknowledge his presence, his face hidden in his small palms. Harry wanted to do nothing more than curl under his sheets and cry. He found himself unable to stop his trembling, body shaking and sleek with sweat, his pajama shirt clung to his back as his hair did to his head. Harry was quickly losing control of his own breathing, nearly hyperventilating.

The first tear fell from Harry's eyes and soon the sheet in his lap was damp with and Kreacher stood at the side of his bed, always vigilant. For years Kreacher did everything in his power to be there for Harry at these moments of weakness. There he remained, for nearly ten minutes, a comforting presence for a child who lost nearly everything. Haunted at night by his past, and what he dreaded would come to pass.

"Thank you, Kreacher." Harry told the elf, finally in control of himself. He took a deep breath; shakily air filled his lungs, his chest quivering as his barely restrained emotions threatened to well up once more. Hearing Harry's voice, Kreacher began to wring his hands in anxiousness.

"It had been weeks, Kreacher had hoped…" He began.

"Me too." Harry replied, knowing exactly what Kreacher had meant. Harry's nightmares had been happening with less and less frequency the months since Halloween and Harry allowed himself to hope that maybe he no longer had reason to fear his own dreams. But the trip to Diagon Alley rekindled his night terrors. Or rather, the pub-goers of the Leaky Cauldron did so. Closing his eyes he could see all of the thankful souls, and ending with the ever timid Professor Quirrell trembling and looking everywhere but the eyes of those he spoke with; every patron thanking Harry for a series of events that orphaned him. "What time is it?" Harry asked the aging elf, the smallest hints of light beginning in the sky.

"Quarter til' five, Young Master." Harry nodded and blinked the sleep from his eyes stretching and walked to his desk retrieving his school books intending to head down to the drawing room until his godfather woke up. Nightmare or not, flying still sounded wonderful to him. He reached for the door, books underarm, but Kreacher was already there opening it for him. "Happy birthday, Young Master." Kreacher said, bowing. Harry gave the elf a true smile, thanking him as he walked out of his room and down to the drawing room.

Nearly four hours later Harry put _Magical Drafts and Potions_ down on the table in front of the couch he sat at, tiredly snaking his fingers under his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Eventually he gave up, taking the glasses off and placing them on the table next to the book. Yawning, he swung his feet onto the couch laying down fully and closing his eyes to rest.

Fifteen minutes later, Sirius walked into the drawing room and saw his godson deep asleep on the couch he spend so much time in. Walking over to him he shook him lightly on the shoulder. Emerald eyes snapped open staring deep into his. "Hey there, Happy Birthday Harry!" Harry replied with a yawn sitting straight up.

"Thanks Padfoot, what's the plan today?" Harry asked, hopeful that flying would show up sooner rather than later.

Sirius cracked a smile knowing what his godson wanted but put it off for the moment. "Moony will show up in a bit, probably after breakfast; we both have something for you. And after that we might see about a little flying." Harry smiled; excited to get back on his Nimbus 1700. "Let's head downstairs, Kreacher has been cooking up something special for you, or so he's told me."

The two walked downstairs to the entrance hallway, on one side of which was Grimmauld Place's dining room. The other side had a doorway leading downstairs to the kitchen and to Kreacher's small room. During the walk Harry's dream came to mind and he needed to bring it up with his godfather. "Hey… Sirius?"

"Yeah?" Came Sirius' light hearted reply.

"Why did you act like that in Gringotts?" Harry asked, the question had burned in his mind and it needed to come out. Sirius looked taken aback slightly before turning more thoughtful.

"How do you mean?" Sirius asked, quizzically.

"The way you talked and acted. It was like they didn't matter to you." Harry stated, referring to Sirius' dismissals and almost aristocratic way of interaction. "And since when are you _'Lord Black?'_ " He continued. Sirius' near narcissism and condescension of the goblins bothered Harry on a very basic level.

"I-" Sirius began, but he realized his godson was right. He sighed. "You have to understand, as a whole that's how wizard kind has seen not just goblins but all other races." Harry's face showed clear displeasure, disgusted at the beginnings of this explanation. "Even at the Ministry of Magic, the Fountain of Magical Brethren shows a centaur, goblin and house elf basically worshipping a witch and wizard. I guess the wizarding world could learn a thing or two from muggles in that regard." Sirius explained thoughtfully.

Like so many times before Harry didn't reply and continued walking downstairs, thinking about what Sirius had told him. _'Despite everything he has gone through to have such a definite moral compass is amazing. Especially at that age. Remus especially would be proud. And James.'_ No further words were shared on the conversation and they stepped into the dining room where Kreacher had prepared a full breakfast for them.

After the dishes of bacon, sausage, eggs, beans and hash browns they both leaned back into their chairs. Harry gave a small sigh of contentment, pleasantly full. Sirius, however, found himself nearly comatose. He reached the point of being pleasantly full and ignored his stomach's groans of protest; continuing to eat as Harry watched on, slightly mortified. "I tell you what Harry, Kreacher's cooking beats the hell out of anything I did before moving back here. As much as I hate the house."

Harry turned to look at his godfather curiously. "Why did you hate the house?" Harry had never heard the story, as far as he knew Sirius always lived in the home of his family.

"Long story short, my mother and I didn't quite see eye to eye and I was kicked out. Your grandparents took me in after that." Harry looked at him thoughtfully.

"So one of the blacked out spots on the family tree, in the drawing room, you're one of them?" Harry spent enough time in the room; he had seen the large and elaborate family tree. Harry never asked about Sirius' position on it though, assuming the Black family had never gotten around to adding him.

"That'll be the work of my dear mother. Terrible woman, my mother was. She was glad to be rid of me, but not as much as I was to be rid of her." At this, Harry frowned being without his mother for so long he couldn't imagine feeling the way Sirius did. But he didn't question him.

The plates in front of them vanished suddenly and were replaced by a single dish. On the dish was a sweet looking dessert consisting of shortcrust pastry and topped with golden syrup. On the side was a dollop of clotted cream and a small desert fork.

"I love Kreacher." Harry said immediately picking up the fork and serving himself a bite of the still hot treacle tart.

"For breakfast? He spoils you rotten!" Sirius exclaimed his signature bark-like laugh filling the dining room.

"What's for breakfast?" A voice called from outside in the hallway.

"Treacle tart apparently Moony! We're in the dining room!" Sirius replied, beginning to eat his own dessert, despite his objecting stomach. The man that stepped into the dining room was quite young but showed the signs of a man that had lived beyond his years. Stray grey hairs were interspersed throughout his normally light brown hair and his eyes were that of a man perpetually tired. His robes were thinning in several places and patched in just as many.

Harry quickly stood to greet his honorary uncle Remus Lupin, "Uncle Moony! I missed you," giving him a quick hug; wrapping his arms around Moony's midsection and releasing it before Remus even had a chance to reciprocate. Harry had not been enthusiastic about touching or being touched for years now. Harry sat back down and began eating his dessert again, but turned toward Remus as he did so.

"I missed you both too." He smiled, clasping Sirius on the shoulder as he did so.

"Breakfast?" Sirius asked, "I'm sure Kreacher could fix you something up."

"No, thank you. And thanks to Kreacher where ever he is. But I ate before coming over." Remus politely declined. "It seems that he knows the way to the birthday boy's heart though." He laughed.

"You want mine? Seems as if I ate a little too much earlier." Sirius offered sheepishly. Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Now that, I will take you up on." Remus finished Sirius' dessert and they all sat in comfortable silence until both Remus and Harry were done.

"What have you been up to Moony? Haven't heard from you much lately." Sirius inquired.

"I've been here and there. Mostly hopping between jobs hoping one will stick." Remus replied, downplaying his true situation. Remus' lycanthropy forced him to take jobs he was overqualified for and more often than not they paid poorly. He would need to leave before co-workers put the pieces together and discovered his "monthly problem" as James was so fond of calling it.

Harry grew quiet, solving the puzzle in his head. Sirius and Remus made small talk as he waged an internal battle. It was clear that Remus was not doing well financially; the state of Remus' clothes and his employment situation were telltale signs to Harry. His thoughts drifted to the gold sitting underneath Gringotts and any sense of decorum left him. "You can live here!" Harry exclaimed; interrupting Sirius in what looked like must have been a story at his expense.

"Wh-what?" Remus asked, memories of a sixteen year old James saying those exact words flashing through his mind.

"I mean… It's up to Padfoot, it is his house. But d… Dad had so much money. You can use as much as you want." Harry replied with less confidence, saddened when reminded of why exactly so much money was at his disposal. Sirius closed his eyes, making a fist and lightly hitting it against his forehead.

' _Of fucking course… James did it why didn't I ever think of it. Harry you fucking genius.'_ "Harry is right Moony. Working for fulfillment is one thing but there's no reason you should have to struggle to find two knuts to rub together." Sirius said, firmly entrenched in his decision.

"Well I wouldn't say my situation is that desperate." Remus began, slighted at Sirius' insinuation - true as they may be. "Besides, I wouldn't want to be a burden to either of you."

"Moony… You're family. Family doesn't get left behind." Harry spoke softly, his eyes conveying so much emotion. Remus sighed, knowing he was beaten. Harry was exactly the kind of person to see his situation and was unwilling to stand by as Remus struggled.

"This is temporary." Remus said, convincing no one in the room, even himself. "Anyway, Harry, this is for you." Eager to change the subject, Remus pulled a small wrapped package out of his robes and presented it to Harry. He carefully unwrapped the package wrapped in plain brown paper, revealing a wand care kit. "I understand you recently went to Diagon Alley and picked up your wand. It is a careless wizard that lets their partner in all magic wither in any way." At this he levied a lighthearted glare at Sirius, knowing full well the man had not touched wax to wand in years.

"Brilliant, thank you!" Harry thanked him, truly excited. He was incredibly fond of his wand and could not wait to practice the things he had read. Harry turned to Sirius to see his reply and was greeted with the largest grin he had seen on his godfather's face in recent memory. "What?..." Harry asked hesitantly. Whatever it was, Sirius was immensely pleased about something.

"Oh nothing, just wondering when you'll notice." Sirius said. Harry immediately began scanning the room nervously, godson or not, he was not immune to his godfather's mischievous nature. The pranks did not die with his graduation from Hogwarts. "Was there a spot of rain when you arrived, Moony?" Sirius asked his longtime friend.

Confused Remus looked between the two of them, "Not that I recall, why?" He asked.

"Oh, I just thought I heard you put an umbrella in that god awful troll-leg umbrella stand." Realization crossing Harry's face he quickly stood up and cautiously walked into the entrance hallway.

"BLOODY HELL!" The obscenity as well as Harry's excitement elicited uncontrollable laughter from both Remus and Sirius. Curiosity drove Remus to stand up and look into the hallway, but all he was able to see was Harry sprinting up the stairs taking them two at a time clutching a broomstick. Eyes flicking to the handle he was able to make out what several "O's" or Zeroes and knowing both Harry and his best friend, was able to infer what it was.

The very next thing Sirius and Remus heard was the same excited young boy yelling from the drawing room. "The Valley!" Sirius did nothing to stop the ensuing laughter.

"He's going to hate me when he realizes he only has a month with it." Remus joined his friend in laughter, reveling in the moment and Harry's happiness.

* * *

Harry, Remus and Sirius walked through King's Cross Station towards platform 9 ¾ to start Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Harry was excited of course, but hated leaving his new broomstick behind. The day he got it was one of his favorite in recent memory, he literally could not wait to try it, sprinting upstairs to the floo; leaving Sirius and Remus behind in the dining room. Comparing the 2000 to his old 1700 was like watching a bat fly in comparison to a hawk. The bat clumsily flailed through the air descending in between each flap of its leathery wings. His Nimbus 2000 felt so natural, accelerating to top speed with no trouble and responded to his every command with far better handling.

Harry pushed his trolley holding his trunk and Hedwig through the station, slightly irritated at his godfather. "Come on Padfoot, we're going to be late." His godfather had slept in and had taken a lot of convincing from both Harry and Remus to get out of bed. Harry would have gone just with Remus if he wasn't so sure Sirius would be offended.

"Oh, you're fine Harry Me, James and Remus cut it closer than this all the time!" Sirius exclaimed thinking back on his own trips taking the Hogwarts Express.

"James, Remus and I, Sirius." Remus corrected with a small smile.

"Shut up Lily." He complained. Lily would often correct his grammar. Having gone to muggle primary school for several years before her Hogwarts education she was always very well spoken.

When the three got to the dividing barrier between platforms nine and ten there was a relatively short plump woman with red hair speaking with four boys, each with the same flaming red hair blocking their path. Standing behind the woman was a small girl, also red-headed.

"Must be Molly Weasley; that hair is hard to miss." Sirius said to Remus, not expecting Harry to know the old pure-blooded family. Ignoring them, Harry tapped lightly on the little girl's shoulder causing her to quickly turn around in surprise.

"Excuse me; are you lot about to get on the platform?" He asked the girl.

She looked quickly at his cart making note of his trunk and owl and nodded. "My brothers are all going to Hogwarts but I'll be left behind this year, mom says I'm not old enough." Harry nodded not truly paying attention and watching all of the boys push their carts through the wall and disappearing.

Any response Harry had died in his chest as suddenly the girl was pulled by hand away and through the barrier. She gave him one final look as her body disappeared into the brick wall. "Come on Harry, we better get on the Platform." Remus said, giving him a slight push toward the wall. At a brisk walk Harry pushed his cart straight to the wall, knowing he would not crash, but subconsciously waiting for it.

It never came; looking around he saw the great red locomotive waiting next to the platform. All around were people, children frantically trying to get aboard the train, and their parents giving heartfelt goodbyes. Harry turned towards the barrier that Remus and Sirius had just walked through. "Have a good term Harry, write when you get the chance?" Remus asked with a smile, honestly happy for him.

"Don't study too much Prongslet, I can't wait to hear from ol' McGonagall!" Sirius teased, somehow knowing Harry's Hogwarts experience would be nothing like his own.

Harry gave them both quick hugs and pushed his cart forward away from them, attempting to get over his nervousness. Soon he was lost in the crowd, pushing forward in the general direction of the train the scraping of countless school trunks and carts created the dull background noise of the station. It was accented by the sounds and hoots of disgruntled owls, incessant meowing of countless cats weaving every which way between the legs of the crowd, and the conversations between student and parents.

"Gran, I can't find Trevor."

"Where's Percy?"

"perfect prefect –"

Harry reached the train and pushed his cart along looking for an empty compartment. The first few were occupied, the students inside had the windows open and were talking with the people outside of the train. Midway down the train Harry saw the compartments less and less full and a few empty even. He kept walking until he was near the very end hoping he might have it to himself not quite ready to re-experience the events in Diagon Alley.

He placed Hedwig into the compartment first and then moved around his trunk to get it into the train door. With excruciating effort he managed to get it up the first few steps before he was unable to push it up anymore, it was wedged on the final step into the compartment. Looking around in panic for Remus or Sirius he saw them caught in conversation near the barrier with a man with flaming red hair, just like the family that walked through the barrier before him.

"Need some help?" Harry looked down and there was the same little girl that would not be following her brothers to Hogwarts. With a slightly dejected sigh he nodded his head, embarrassed at needing the assistance of a ten year old girl. With a surge effort they pushed the trunk up and over the last step. Harry offered his thanks, taking the hand she extended towards him in greeting. "I'm Ginny, Ginny Weasley!"

"And I'm Harry. Uhm, Harry Potter." He replied shaking her hand, unable to miss the shock in her face, seeing her eyes flick up to his forehead searching for something. As the mentioning of his last name left his tongue the train let out a whistle signaling its inevitable departure and both heard the girl's mother screaming her name; worry evident in her voice. "I should probably go." He said eager to get out of the awkward situation, with one final look at the girl he walked into the compartment collapsing against one of the seats sighing.

The train let out one final whistle and he felt the train fighting against the friction the tracks provided. Looking out the window he saw the plump red-headed woman kissing each of her boys goodbye as the train lurched forward. The little girl, Ginny, ran with the train attempting to keep up; tears in her eyes as she laughed and cried clearly wanting desperately to be on it with her brothers. Eventually, the train was moving too quickly and she was left standing at the end of the platform waving at the train and Harry smiled, for a moment she was running right alongside his window and he gave a slight wave, unsure if she saw him or not.

No one else in his compartment, he stretched out on the seat closing his eyes, maybe if he was lucky he would be able to get some sleep in before arriving. As he began to slip into unconsciousness he heard the compartment door open slightly and a soft voice mutter "Oh." Keeping his eyes closed Harry pretended to sleep, maybe if the person thought he was asleep they would leave.

He felt the presence stand in the doorway, unsure of what to do before they quietly stepped into the cart. Harry cracked his eye open and there were actually two people a bushy haired girl and a rather plump, round faced boy. They flinched as the door closed with a loud, audible click. Harry attempted to ignore them, tightly shutting his eyes wanting nothing to do with them or any sort of small talk.

* * *

It seemed like he had just shut his eyes when he felt himself being shaken awake. Harry's eyes snapped open looking around the cabinet and he saw the bushy haired girl retract her hand looking concerned. "I'm very sorry, they just made the announcement that we would be arriving in five minutes and well, you haven't changed yet."

"Alright, thanks." Harry said giving her a look before reaching under his seat for his trunk. Finding it, he stood, pulling the long black robe over his clothes. Once done he closed his trunk pushing it back under his seat and sitting back down looking at his company. Both seemed very young, probably in his year if he had to guess. The girl had rather large front teeth and was looking at him quizzically. The boy was quite chubby, not necessarily fat, but round. Like the girl, he was slightly bucktoothed with a round face and a head of blonde hair. He seemed to shirk away from his gaze, suddenly finding the floor incredibly interesting.

The girl stuck her hand out, "I'm Hermione Granger, and this here is Neville Longbottom we're both starting Hogwarts this year. And you are?" Harry politely took her extended hand shaking it once before giving his reply.

"I'm… Harry." He said declining to give his last name tired of the responses it elicited. She nodded, seemingly unperturbed by his lack of surname.

"We are both quite pleased to be attending Hogwarts. It's the very best school of witchcraft and wizardry. I've already read each of our course books, but hopefully it will be enough." She stated quickly, the excitement evident from her voice. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking for both herself and Neville, but declined to say anything. If Neville had any complaints about it he did not mention them.

For the rest of the short train ride Hermione talked away at the two of them; Neville smiled and nodded nervously, and Harry, ever taciturn, listened; commenting but remaining distant. An announcement was made to leave their things on the train as they would be delivered up to the castle. When the train stopped people all pushed to get out the doors and they were all cramped on the small platform before a light shined over the heads of all the students.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" There, towering over all the students was the largest man Harry had ever seen in his life. At almost twelve feet tall, the man was twice the height of even Sirius and Remus he could not help but stare in wonder.

"That's Hagrid!" Hermione exclaimed. Harry turned to her with a questioning look.

"You know him?" He asked surprised and curious in equal measure.

"Neither of my parents were magical, so he took us to Diagon Alley and told us about the world." She explained excitedly.

"All right there, Hermione?" He asked spotting the three of them. His eyes lingered on Harry's face a flicker of recognition in his face but thankfully he didn't say anything. "Alright yeh lot, follow me!" The giant of a man, Hagrid, corralled all of the first year students down a steep and narrow path. From Harry's quick estimation there were around forty or fifty of them walking between the thick trees in what was essentially a single file line.

In the back, Harry watched all of his year mates turn a corner and let out a loud, excited "Oooh!" Curious, Harry continued around the bend and nearly stepped back at the sight. The path stopped at the edge of an enormous black lake, Harry couldn't see into the water at all, but that might have been due to the darkness of night. On the other side of the lake was a high mountain. They were in Scotland, after all. But atop that mountain was a sight Harry would never forget.

Standing tall and proud on the mountain was an ornate castle with countless turrets and towers ascending even higher into the sky. It was lit up on the inside by innumerable lanterns, beaming orange rays of warm light from the numerous windows.

The boats continued to move across the smooth lake, everyone silent, staring wistfully at the castle. Eventually, the boats carried them into the cliff face of the mountain Hogwarts stood upon and they found themselves in a tunnel, at the end of which was a long quay where the boats docked. Off to one side Harry heard Neville's excited exclamation "Trevor!"

Hagrid let the students out of the underground harbor and up a passageway. Harry was immediately reminded of his trip to Gringotts, thankful that he was on his own feet instead of one of their frightening mine carts. At the top of the stairs they found themselves in a large grass field next to another set of stone stairs that led to a great wooden door at the front of the castle. Hagrid climbed the steps in five great steps as everyone scrambled to keep up behind him.

At the top, Hagrid slammed his huge fist against the door; knocking three times, the dull slams echoing in the night.

* * *

 **And that's that!**

 **Writing for young Harry is very, very hard for me. Children are always difficult to write and this Harry is especially so. Children are perceptive and intelligent, they have complex emotions and so many writers make the mistake of writing an eleven year old like a fourteen year old, those three years make a huge difference in maturity as are the three years from fourteen to seventeen.**

 **Additionally, because of his past Harry is so much more mature than others his age. The difference between writing dialogue for children and adults is experience and vocabulary. I caught myself several times throughout this chapter having to rewrite Harry's dialogue over and over again. Let me know if I did an okay job with it!**


	5. Chapter 5 - The Thinking Cap

**Disclaimer: The characters in this story and universe belong to J K Rowling alone.**

 **Author's Notes:**

 **This a much shorter chapter than the previous two, and I apologize for that. Unfortunately, since the story does start from the very beginning I can't skip over stuff like this as much as I would like to. I can't wait to get started on some of the real fun stuff though. Hopefully you'll stick with me through some of this more tedious stuff!**

 **Additionally, a huge thank you to all of you that continue to Review, I very much appreciate it!**

* * *

 **Chapter 5 - The Thinking Cap**

The enormous, ornate oaken doors sung open immediately after the third knock. Standing behind them was a stern looking witch in emerald robes. She had black hair lightly peppered with streaks of grey. "Here are the firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the massive man, Hagrid, said. So this was McGonagall, Harry could not help but feel spite towards her, illogical as it was. He knew he would miss his _Nimbus_.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she pulled the door wide revealing the entrance hall. Harry was loathe to call the one at Grimmauld place as such. The enormous hall was so tall that he could not even clearly see the ceiling. There was a large marble staircase in the hall leading to the floors above, and on the right was another large doorway where the dull roar of hundreds could be heard. The rest of the student body must have already arrived. Before approaching the doorway Professor McGonagall ushered the first years into a side room on the left.

"You have arrived at Hogwarts, the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry," the stern woman began curtly. "My name is Professor McGonagall, professor of Transfiguration and Deputy Headmistress. The opening feast will begin soon, but before it does you must be sorted into your houses. You will be staying in these houses for the duration of your time at Hogwarts it will become your family while you are here. Both class time and free time will be spent with your designated house. While here, your achievements will earn you house points towards the house cup, any misbehaving will result in deducted points." Harry heard a sharp intake of breath. He did not need to turn his head to know it was Hermione Granger.

"The sorting will be take place in front of the rest of the professors and students. I will gather you when the Sorting is to begin." Her last words spoken, she began to head out of the large room and the first years frantically attempted to smooth out their state of dress. Harry's hands immediately went to his hair, attempting to flatten it to no avail. He saw off to his left a boy with flaming red hair scrubbing at his nose.

Giving his hair up as an exercise in futility Harry stood near the back of the room, waiting for Professor McGonagall to return when he was approached by a pale boy flanked by two other heavyset boys. "So it's true then? You're Harry Potter, come to Hogwarts?" The pale boy had a head of platinum blonde hair and his facial features were skewed into what Harry could best describe as "dignified arrogance."

"Yes," Harry replied eyes going to the two heavyset boys. Both looked quite mean and not just a little frightening for their age, but their features did not lead one to believe either was incredibly intelligent. Flanking the blonde, the two large boys looked as if they were guarding him.

Seeing Harry's gaze waver to his companions the blonde pointed to the boy on his left "This is Crabbe, and Goyle," he offered disinterestedly. His back straightening and extending a hand; "And my name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Glancing down at the offered hand and ever the polite one Harry took it, begrudgingly, shaking once before releasing it and fighting the urge to wipe his hand on his robes. The Malfoys were distant relatives of Padfoot and he was beginning to see why he spit their name as if the taste of the name was revolting to him.

Draco's eyes drifted around the room landing on the redhead who had taken the bottom of his robes, still attempting to remove a spot of dirt as the bushy haired Hermione directed him. "As you know, some of us come from better stock than the others what with the muggle-borns and blood traitors. We should stick together, no?"

The amount of bigotry that the boy in front of him was spewing was physically sickening to Harry and he had to stop himself from giving an aggressive reply. "I'll keep that in mind, Draco," Harry offered diplomatically. Any further response was cut off by the arrival of Professor McGonagall but Harry could see that the young Malfoy seemed very pleased with himself.

"Form a single file line and we will enter the great hall," the stern woman commanded. Harry conviently fell in between Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger. Once oriented, the Deputy Headmistress led the first years through the pair of double doors across the entrance hall. In the hall sat four long tables where the rest of the students sat eagerly watching them enter. Floating throughout the Great Hall were thousands of candles floating in midair, bathing the great hall in a warm orange light. Above head, expecting to see an ornate ceiling and rafters Harry was treated to a sight of the night sky, the stars clearly visible. Despite being exposed to magic his entire life, Harry had never seen a more wonderful place.

It was, for lack of a better word, magical.

Looking down from the enrapturing ceiling, he saw Professor McGonagall place a stool in front of the first years on top of which she placed an old, weathered looking wizard's hat. The hat had long since lost its form, its point drooping down and it was extremely frayed and dirty looking. All along the brim was a long rip that seemed to have been roughly stitched together. Suddenly, the hat twitched and the rip opened like a mouth.

"… _and the hat began to sing:_

' _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _if you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folk use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!' "_

 _-Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

Harry listened intently to the hat, as it listed the houses and their virtues. Harry knew his parents, Moony and Padfoot were all in Gryffindor but he wasn't sure if Gryffindor was right for him. Being brave and daring sounded wonderful. As did being just and loyal. Harry thought he had a ready mind, always nose deep in a book. Harry didn't just want to be brave. He also wanted to be loyal, and just as well as intelligent and cunning. Harry vaguely heard the various students being called forth and sorted by the hat, but he was deep in thought and paid them little mind. Before too long he was shaken out of his stupor.

"Potter, Harrry!" Harry's legs felt as if they had turned to lead, unable to move them forward to the stool. Out of his peripherals he could see all of the students lean together, whispers breaking out; each conversation was like a small hissing snake slithering through the Great Hall.

Harry was gestured forward by McGonagall and as the hat dropped over his eyes he saw the students at each of the four tables leaning to see him. "Hmmm," a small voice spoke into his ear. Harry instinctively turned towards it, cheeks reddening realized the source of the voice was atop his head.

"Difficult, very difficult. Your mind is ripe, ready for molding by Ravenclaw. But your desire to be ready, at any and all cost; very Slytherin. A strong sense of morality, and an enormous amount of courage. Your parents you know, they were quite easy." At the mention of his parents Harry's heart fell. For his entire time at Hogwarts he had barely thought of them. It was as if he betrayed their memory. He was at the very school they met. As if reading his thoughts the hat continued, "to wake up day after day and persevering, experiencing what you have is truly one of the bravest things I have seen. And I have sat atop many a head."

"Therefore," the hat's voice picking up and Harry knew that the rest of the hall could hear the hat's words at this point. "It better be – GRYFFINDOR!" When Harry took the hat off, his eyes had to readjust to the surprisingly light hall and he was greeted with enthusiastic clapping and no small amount of cheering. Harry felt a grin spread across his face, but could not get rid of the nagging feeling in his chest, and a slight prickling in his forehead. Never before had he missed his parents so much. He had always had Sirius and Remus, but here he was truly alone.

When Harry arrived an older student with flaming red hair and a badge with a large letter "P" stood up and enthusiastically shook his hand, introducing himself as "Percy" two twins that looked startling like him were jumping up and down vigorously shouting "We got Potter! We got Potter!" In the last few weeks since Harry had started preparing for Hogwarts he had gotten his hand shaken more times than he had in his entire life. He decided it was a ritual he could do without. Harry sat next to Percy and the applause and cheering finally died down. Looking around, Harry could clearly see the Head Table.

He could clearly make out the giant of a man Hagrid who sat at the end nearest him. At the center of the table was an incredibly old looking man with iridescent silver hair and a long flowing beard colored the same, shimmering silver. His startling blue eyes scanning the room behind spectacles before coming to rest on Harry with a smile. Harry recognized the man from the night he lost his father, he quickly worked to repress memories, flashes of green coming to the surface of his thoughts.

Also at the head table he spotted Professor Quirrell. If possible, the man looked even more nervous than before. Curiously, he now sported a purple turban covering his bald head and ending around his shoulders, drooping down his front like a scarf.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The exclamation denoted one of the last students' sorting. Looking toward the stool Harry saw the same young red haired boy that tried so desperately to remove the spot of dirt on his nose. As the boy approached Harry could spot the spot of dirt, still present on his nose. "Well done, Ron!" Percy said from next to Harry. Ron sat down across from Harry and Percy as "Zabini, Blaise," was sorted into Slytherin. "I suppose some introductions are in order then," Percy began. "The twins there are Fred and George, and across from you is-"

"Ron, Ron Weasley," The boy said with a happy smile. Harry recognized them all of course from King's Cross. He felt a twinge of jealousy that Ron was able to go to Hogwarts with so many of his siblings. No further conversation ensued because at that moment the spectacled man stood up and made the strangest opening speech Harry had ever heard in his entire life.

"Odd…ment?" Harry asked, bewildered. "Is – is he mad?" Harry asked Percy next to him.

"Who, Professor Dumbledore? He's brilliant, a genius! There might be a touch of madness there though," he admitted, reaching across the table to serve himself some roast potatoes. Harry's eyes widened in realization, there the previously empty dishes were filled with all sorts of food. It was similar to how Kreacher served Harry and Sirius at Grimmauld Place, but on a massive scale.

In the beginning no one talked much, too busy indulging themselves on all of the food. Harry himself, normally taciturn, did not say a word. He hadn't realized how hungry he was, having not eaten since breakfast. He had been pretending to be asleep when the trolley came through on the Hogwarts Express. He kicked himself slightly for it now, a pumpkin pastry would have been nice to tide him over.

The students talked more and more amongst themselves as the food dwindled from the plates. Neville was telling the stories of how his family thought he was a squib, intending to avoid the conversation Harry turned to Percy "What does that badge mean?" He asked, pointing to the red badge with a large "P" on his chest.

Slightly puffing his chest out "Oh it signifies my status as a prefect –" Percy began but was quickly interrupted by Fred and George. George and Fred… Harry honestly couldn't tell the difference.

"Oh you're a prefect Percy?"

"My, George, I had no idea!"

"Really? He's mentioned it once-"

"Twice probably –"

"An hour-"

"all-" red faced, Percy finally cut them off with a note of finality.

"Enough!" Surprisingly, the twins stopped their tirade, grins on their faces. "I'll have you know that Harry asked about the badge. Anyway, there are two prefects in every house with both extra responsibilities and privileges. Prefects patrol the corridors after curfew, and watch over the younger students during certain events. Like after the feast I will show you lot to the common room. The Prefects have their own bathroom up on the fifth floor as well."

Harry nodded his understanding after Percy's explanation. He was clearly passionate about the job, Harry could not help but admire that in the older Weasley. Not too long after Percy's explanation Professor Dumbledore stood and gave the student body notices for the term entering the "Forbidden Forest" and not performing magic in the corridors seemed fairly self-explanatory and Harry was doing his best to pay attention, truly he was, but after the feast and the long day he found himself tired.

"Additionally, Quidditch trials will be conducted on the second week of the term." Harry perked up upon hearing that. He had decided that if Quidditch was one of his few options to fly again, he would take it without hesitation. "Finally, I must add; that the right hand corridor on the third floor is strictly off limits to anyone who does not wish to suffer an excruciating end." Harry waited for any signal that the headmaster's words had been a joke but none came. Percy's serious face confirmed his suspicions.

After the speech and a rather silly song, in Harry's opinion, the Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the throngs of students catching up after the summer holiday. Looking around, he realized he was not the only one who felt tired, all of the first years dragged their feet, yawning as they marched in single file. Harry did his best to take mental notes of their path knowing Percy would not always be leading them around by hand.

They climbed several staircases and walked through doors sometimes hidden by tapestries and the like. Harry's tired mind was spinning trying to keep track of it all. It was difficult though, considering the staircases tended to move. Some of the doors needed to be tickled or persuaded to be opened. And some doors were not even doors at all, just walls having a go at the students _pretending_ to be doors. After one final staircase – they came to a corridor, at the end of which hung a portrait of an obscenely fat woman wearing a pink silk dress. Upon giving the password "Capus"Draconis," the portrait opened forward revealing a hole in the wall.

"This is the Gryffindor common room, you'll spend a lot of time here, either studying, doing homework or catching up with friends." The room was round full of incredibly comfortable looking arm chairs and a couch sat in the middle. It was decorated in red and gold and felt very inviting. As much time as Harry spent in the Grimmauld Place drawing room, he had a feeling he would prefer it in here.

Percy directed the girls off to a staircase on the left, and led the boys up to the top a staircase on the right. Percy stopped halfway at a door labeled "Fifth Years" "First years are all the way at the top, breakfast service begins in the Great Hall at six o' clock, and your first class will begin at nine. Good night." A clear dismissal, the first year boys trudged up the rest of the stairs, nearly stumbling through the door at the top.

Inside of the room were five four-poster beds at the foot of which were each of their trunks, having been brought up from the train. Each bed had heavy, deep red curtains drawn all the way around. Harry quickly changed into his pajamas, and put his glasses on a nightstand next to his bed. Harry was thankful that the others seemed too tired to talk much. When Harry's head hit the pillow he heard Ron speak to him, "That feast was something, huh?" Before Harry could even think of a reply he had already drifted off to sleep.

Harry's eyes snapped open with a sharp intake of breath. He could hear the light snoring of his year mates and half expected Kreacher to be at his bedside. He rubbed his temples slightly before closing his eyes again. Harry tried, and failed to forget the dream he had woken from.

He was on a stage moving and dancing about it jerkily, not in control of his own body, other than his head. He looked up to see trembling Professor Quirrel giving him a cruel smile holding a wooden cross. Strings descended from the wooden control bar and he realized that each was attached to one of his limbs. Looking back up at the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Harry watched Quirrell drawing a pair of scissors. Slowly and deliberately the turbaned man cut the strings and Harry collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Throughout the entire night Harry tried and failed desperately to forget the dream. Before long morning came.

* * *

 **And that's that! Please, let me know what you think about this chapter and the story as a whole! I welcome constructive criticism!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Incendio

**Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story and universe belong to J K Rowling alone. Basically, nothing is mine.**

 **Author's Notes: Another relatively short chapter but I think this is an important chapter to look into Harry's character developmental wise, especially in comparison to his peers. Also, as always, comments are always welcome! Especially concerning dialogue, I mentioned before writing for Harry is very difficult for me.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6 - Incendio**

For the past two and a half hours he had sat in the common room unable to get back to sleep. The haunting image of Quirrell smiling the same terrible smile Harry saw on Voldemort's face flashed to the forefront of his mind. With every attempt to sleep, every attempt to rest his eyes and even every blink; the snipping of scissors and a flash of green was all Harry could think of. Luckily, Harry had his Herbology textbook to occupy his mind for the most part.

The book, _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , was incredibly descriptive as well as well illustrated. He was currently reading about the Asphodelus plants, their symbolism and their usefulness in potions. On the right side of the page was a page of a beautiful, snow white lily.

"Despite its beautiful outward appearance, for centuries Asphodel has been the subject of morbid symbolism. The placing of an Asphodel on the grave of a loved one has inferred the denotation 'My regrets follow you to the grave.' Asphodel has been most prominently known for its usage in potions in combination with Wormwood (See page 347)."

Curious, Harry skipped ahead to page 347 knowing he would read the pages in between eventually. Page 348 on the right hand side was a full illustration of what Harry could only assume to be Wormwood. The plant looked much like a shrub, or a bush. It was light green in color, almost white among some of the foliage. Harry scanned the illustration before turning his attention back to the information he sought.

"Wormwood has long been used in healing, both for Muggles and Wizardkind alike. Known for its bitter but aromatic taste, Wormwood grows as a large woody shrub. Muggles use the shrubs medicinally, believing it to stimulate appetite and relieve indigestion. Despite its uses medicinally, wormwood long has symbolized bitter sorrow, possibly due to its bitter taste. When infusion of wormwood is derived from the plant itself, and combined with the root of asphodel, the base of the Draught of Living Death potion is created. Interestingly, the potion is not actually a poison, but a powerful sleeping draft. It is important to note, that the symbolism of the two plants in combination tells a sad tale of love, death and bitter sorrow."

No longer did Quirrell haunt his subconscious, but when he closed his eyes he saw only the white lily, slowly wilting. In his mind he saw the flower drooping lower and lower, before eventually snapping from the stem, unable to support its own weight. _"Everything has a breaking point."_ Harry slammed the book closed, heart hammering in his chest and threatening to leap into his throat.

"Good morning Harry," Harry turned around on the couch towards the staircase, there he saw Percy, descending the stairs. Despite his slight pompous nature, Harry was growing to like the older boy.

"Good morning Percy," Harry replied. He threw his hands behind his head stretching, letting out a large yawn as he did so.

"Doing a bit of revision?" The red haired prefect asked, more than a little surprised upon seeing the book in Harry's lap. To his knowledge he had never seen a first year (other than himself), voluntarily reading a course book before classes even started.

"I woke up early and was just reading to pass the time," Harry replied with a light shrug. Percy tried and failed to keep from looking too impressed. At that time a low growl rumbled from Harry's stomach who quickly found the book cover incredibly interesting as his cheeks reddened slightly. Percy raised an eyebrow at him, slightly amused.

"Well, I was going to head down to breakfast, care to join me?" Percy asked the younger boy, declining to comment on Harry's protesting stomach.

"That sounds good, let me just run and get my book bag," Harry turned and quickly took to the stairs, sometimes two at a time not wanting to keep the prefect waiting. When he got to his room his roommates still had not stirred, Ron's snoring drowning out the rhythmic breathing of Seamus, Dean, and Neville. Harry opened his trunk, retrieving his bag and stuffed the rest of his books, quills, parchment and an inkwell into it. Harry realized the benefit of having an enchanted book bag. It was magically expanded, and charmed to be weightless, slinging it over his shoulders; he quietly exited the first year dormitory. Descending the stairs after a few minutes, Percy was still the only one in the common room. "Alright, ready."

Percy led them out of the common room and towards the Great Hall. Harry took greater care to pay attention to the route at this point, being too tired to fully commit the route to memory the previous night. "Uhm, Percy? Do you know what class schedules will be like?" Harry asked.

"Well, McGonagall should be down in the Great Hall to give you a timetable but if I'm honest I don't think the first and second year curriculums change much. Unfortunately, I can't think of it off of the top of my head. I remember a lot of Herbology in the mornings during my first year though." Harry nodded, willing to wait until McGonagall gave him a timetable.

Being fairly early, the corridors were relatively empty. That just made it easier to hear the whispers though.

"There, did you see him?"

"Next to the Gryffindor Prefect?"

"Yeah, wearing glasses."

"Did you get a look at his scar?"

The students would stop and look at him, or double back to pass him again. Harry stared straight ahead, determined to ignore them, hopefully they would eventually follow suit. He just wanted to be a normal kid, going to school and learning magic. Before too long the two reached the Great Hall, nearly empty. The fullest table by far was occupied by Ravenclaws. At the Head Table sat Professor McGonagall, as well as a squat little witch with short, graying hair, with a patched hat upon her head. A layer of earth seemed to coat her robes. She had a large smile on her face, talking away at McGonagall who was subtly turning further and further away from her.

The stern Professor McGonagall looked positively relieved when she saw Harry and Percy sit at the Gryffindor table. Excusing herself, she stood and made her way towards them. Upon reaching them, she waved her wand, in her hand appeared two pieces of parchment. She handed one to each of them. "Good morning Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter, first classes begin at nine o clock sharp, you will be in the greenhouses with Professor Sprout," here, she gestured slightly towards the Head Table where the squat witch broke into a smile and waved. Harry could see Professor McGonagall's left eye twitch as she resisted rolling them in exasperation. "Give yourself plenty of time to arrive promptly, as many of your professors will not tolerate tardiness, I for one do not," having said her piece she turned, robes billowing in her wake.

Harry sat across from Percy, both silently eating as they studied their timetables. Percy was right, three times a week was Herbology, first thing in the morning. On Monday he had the second period off before lunch and History of Magic at night. Tuesday he only had two classes again, but instead of having second off, there was Defense Against the Dark Arts with the timid Professor Quirrell. Harry was not looking forward to Wednesdays. More Herbology in the morning, but at midnight was Astronomy. Sleeping came difficult enough for Harry as it was.

Despite the obvious lack of sleep he would have the night before, Harry looked forward to his Thursdays. Charms and Transfiguration were both in the morning, Harry was excited to put to practice what he had read and he knew his wand was itching to be used. In the afternoon was a flying lesson where he intended to make his Quidditch try out aspirations known. On the last day of the week was a double Potions period with the Slytherins.

Hearing a single chime, Harry looked at the clock in the Great Hall, seeing the time was 8:30, he stood, once again shouldering his bag. "I'll see you later Percy," Harry said, intending to get to Herbology on time. Professor Sprout seemed like a kind enough woman, but he had no intentions of being late to his first ever class at Hogwarts.

Being behind the castle, Harry had to walk the length of it to get outside and to his first class of the day. As Harry walked through the hallway, it was much more crowded and more people stopped, stared and pointed. The reactions were less severe before since Percy was with him but now they blatantly showed their wonder.

Harry wished they wouldn't.

Eventually, Harry escaped the castle and walked the path towards the greenhouses, his wand burned excitedly in the inside pocket of his robe. Harry walked inside the first of seven greenhouses, seeing no one around he set his book bag in the back and took his wand out of his robes. It seemed to revel in his touch. Harry absentmindedly spun it around his fingers, waiting for either students, or Professor Sprout to appear.

Before long Hermione Granger walked into the greenhouse, upon seeing him she made a beeline towards him. "You never told me that you were Harry Potter!" She exclaimed, nearly accusingly.

"I didn't think it was important," Harry said dismissively. In reality, Harry wanted to avoid this very conversation.

"Why, of course it's important!" The bushy haired girl cried. "I've read all about you, you know? You're in oh so many books," she continued beginning to list them. "It's just awful though."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, more so out of politeness than curiosity.

"Well, they all talk about how great it is that you defeated You-Know-Who. But it's very sad. About your parents," she said the last part very quietly though. As far as Harry knew, no one outside of himself knew the truth about his mother's death. From what he read, the books made it seem as if James and Lily Potter were both murdered by Voldemort. In a roundabout he supposed both of them were.

After all, everything has a breaking point.

Harry declined to comment and the two sat in awkward silence until the rest of the first year Gryffindors and eventually Professor Sprout arrived. "Welcome to the greenhouses, my name is Pomona Sprout, I'm Hufflepuff's Head of House, but don't let that stop you from coming to me with any problems you might have with Herbology or otherwise," the short witch cheerfully said.

"Until you've at least finished your O.W.L.'s you will spend at least two mornings here in the greenhouses with me every year, three in your first year. I'll try to make it as enjoyable as possible but remember; Herbology is an important discipline. It has implications in potions, charms, transfiguration and defense. No well-balanced witch or wizard should ever shirk on their Herbology." Harry nodded, after reading about the properties of several different plants the subject was not one he was willing to dismiss.

"Now, I believe I get to teach you your first bit of magic," she said with a smile. Immediately the Gryffindors perked up. "For the first few weeks we will be working with Devil's Snare. It is the first thing we work with here to teach you lot to respect all plants, as they may not be what they seem." She motioned the students forward to a corner of the greenhouse. Unlike the rest of the building, it was bathed in shadow and considerably cooler. Professor Sprout had the students stop at one of the tables that held a potted mess of tentacle like vines.

"Devil's Snare is related to Flitterbloom, a harmless decorative plant. However, it has evolved considerably differently," she pointed at the tentacle like vines hanging out of the pot. "Devil's snare has a sense of touch and will latch on to anything it senses. Like a boa, it will constrict upon the intrusion and any resistance will cause the Devil's Snare to exert an even greater force. However, Devil's Snare will wilt very quickly in the presence of excess light, or fire," Harry nodded along, having read about the plant this morning.

"As such, before any of you work with pruning the plant, I will be teaching you the Fire-Making Spell, or the Incendio Charm." Each student was given a bundle of dried plant trimmings. "These bundles are all leftover from pruning various plants and herbs. Alright, wands out, let's head outside. I will show you all the wand motions and we can get started." After all, setting a fire in a warm room filled with various rare and expensive _flammable_ plants was probably not the best of ideas.

Harry ended up between Ron and Hermione. The three put their bundles of tinder on the ground and drew their wands. Just prior, Professor Sprout had demonstrated the charm, flourishing her wand in a sort of upside down letter "V" before a small flame burst from the end of her wand igniting her bundle of tinder.

Immediately, Ron and Hermione began waving their wands and shouting the incantation.

"Incendio!"

"Incendio!"

"Incindio!"

"Incendio!"

"Insindio!"

"Ronald, what are you doing?" Hermione shrieked, her concentration being broken by the different variations of the incantation the red head was attempting.

"Well, maybe I was saying it wrong the first time; I thought I'd try something else!" Ron exclaimed. Professor Sprout was busy helping another girl and was oblivious to the bickering.

"Of course you aren't going to get it the first time! Honestly –" Harry ignored the rest of their conversation, instead holding his wand in his hand in a loose grip. He had waited so long for this, to actually begin casting spells. He thought back to his readings. Magic was about intent, and desire. No amount of wand waving or incanting would matter if he could not will the spell to happen.

Harry closed his eyes, focusing, feeling how his wand felt in his hand, buzzing with excitement. Harry opened his eyes, waving his wand first up and then down. With no exclamation or scream of frustration, he said the incantation, "Incendio."

The bundle smoked and Harry thought that maybe he had messed up. But in the center, he saw a small flame. Suddenly, catching oxygen his bundle burst up in flames, crackling before quickly expending all of the fuel in and sputtering out of existence. Harry's wand seemed to hum with pleasure in his hand.

"My word, excellent. Very, very good Mr. Potter! Five points to Gryffindor!" Professor Sprout said excitedly. "How exciting, your first piece of magic yes?" She asked, and Harry nodded. "How did it feel?"

"Brilliant."

To Hermione's frustration, Harry performed the charm a few more times with increasing success getting a better feel for it with each cast. "How are you doing that?" She hissed, frustration evident in her voice.

"I just did the movement and said the incantation," he said after igniting another bundle. "Magic is about intent, you have to truly want it to happen."

"Of course I want it to happen," she replied, clearly infuriated, but returned to attempting to cast the charm. By the end of the lesson Harry had been the only one to successfully cast the charm, but Seamus swore his bundle felt hot.

* * *

That afternoon the Gryffindors had History of Magic with Professor Binns. Herbology had been incredibly interesting with Professor Sprout's explanation and demonstration of the Devil's Snare. It had been equal parts thrilling and exciting learning to cast his first spell, and then casting it successfully. His first lesson at Hogwarts had basically been everything Harry had hoped it would be.

History of Magic was none of those things.

It was taught by Professor Binns, a ghost who had a very raspy voice, that droned on and on, seeming to make the hour and a half long class last twice as long. Professor Binns had barely introduced himself as such before beginning to murmur on about the Gargoyle Strike of 1911. Harry had barely realized the lesson had started and began taking notes. Next to him, Hermione had done the same, frantically attempting to write the words of the ghost verbatim.

On his other side, a bit of drool landed next to his elbow and he reflexively looked to his right. Ron had his chin propped up by a hand and had quickly fallen asleep in the stuffy room, drool running down his palm and falling onto the desk.

Harry could not exactly blame him, despite being slightly disgusted.

"Can you believe that barmy old ghost gave us homework on the first day?" Ron complained as the exited the class. "We haven't the foggiest about any gargoyle strike of 1901, we slept through the whole thing!"

"1911, Ronald. And you were the only one that slept," Hermione corrected.

That night Harry sat in the common room, alternating between reading _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ and _A History of Magic_ in preparation for the foot of parchment required for Binns' essay. In a corner sat Ron, Seamus and Dean playing a game of Exploding Snap. They had invited him, but he declined. Harry was reminded distinctly of the differences between him and his year mates.

They seemed so carefree. Harry couldn't remember the last time he felt as happy as they looked as they just played the silly game, laughing hysterically as the cards exploded in their hands. "Bad experience with Snap there Harry?" Harry glanced up from the essay he had started, it was one of the twins.

"Oh, not really George, it's just not my cuppa," he said, making a total guess at which it was. Seeing no visible reaction at the name, he figured he had guessed right. Shrugging, George went off to the corner to see if he could join in on the game.

Was there something wrong with him? Was there something so wrong with not seeing the appeal? That night, Harry's dreams were filled with cards floating about in front of his face, exploding in bursts of green sickly light.

* * *

The next day after Herbology, they did not have a free second period, instead they found themselves sitting in the dark and dusky classroom belonging to Professor Quirrell. The classroom for Defense Against the Dark Arts smelt strongly of garlic, and was lit poorly. The purple turbaned man slowly made his way to the front of the class, peeking over his shoulder as if expecting something would jump from behind him at any second.

"Welcome. I am P-Professor Quirrell," Harry sighed inwardly, the stuttering would get old quickly. How was the man to teach them to defend against dark magic when it seemed he was just afraid of the dark? Abruptly, a hand went into the air. It belonged to a rather pretty looking girl with dirty blonde hair. Quirrell pointed towards her, "Yes? Your name?"

"Lavender Brown Professor Quirrell, I was curious, why is that you wear the turban?" She asked airily.

"Oh, well you see it was a t-thank you gift from an African p-prince after dealing with a p-particular t-troublesome zombie," the man barely stuttered out.

"How'd you deal with the zombie?!" Seamus Finnegan blurted out, eager to hear the rest of the story. Hermione looked horrorstruck that someone would speak without being called upon.

Immediately, Professor Quirrell stammered incoherently, before talking about the weather. "And my oh my, what a lovely day to fly."

' _Is Herbology going to be the only interesting class at Hogwarts?'_ Harry thought to himself. The lesson turned out to be an entire joke. Quirrell talked himself in circles before eventually telling them to open their books and read about werewolf bites.

Unfortunately, Harry had read _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ cover to cover twice now. Harry rubbed at his scar, it was prickling and growing intensity until it felt as if his head would split open. Harry looked up and saw Professor Quirrell sitting at his desk staring straight at him meeting his gaze. Instead of the normally trembling professor he saw cold calculating eyes meeting his own it seemed as if a flash of red crossed them. As soon as it came though Quirrell immediately broke his gaze, suddenly finding the door behind the desks in the classroom very interesting.

Harry looked down at his book again, his forehead no longer feeling on fire. Harry glanced up from his book a few other times and each time Quirrell was staring at him, hungrily.

* * *

The next night, Harry trudged down from the Astronomy tower behind Ron and Hermione. It was an hour into the new day and Hermione was chatting animatedly about the movements of Venus and how her parents had gotten her a telescope for her seventh birthday.

"And that's when I decided I wanted to be an astrophysicist, but not too long after that I got my acceptance letter to Hogwarts!" She explained; to be honest, Harry had missed most of the conversation and Ron clearly wasn't paying any attention, tiredly descending the stairs.

"''ermione… Tired…" Ron mumbled. More often than not, Harry saw Ron as a nuisance but he could not help but agree with the red head's assessment in this case. On top of not sleeping terribly well, it was much later than Harry normally stayed up. He hoped that he'd be able to sleep through the night tonight.

When the first year Gryffindors arrived at the common room they exchanged various goodbyes, heading up to their respective dormitories. Harry placed his wand and glasses on the night stand next to his bed, quickly removing his robe and pulling on a pair of pajamas. Harry was exhausted, but found himself too excited to fall asleep right away.

Tomorrow was Thursday, meaning Charms and Transfiguration in the morning, and flying in the afternoon. It had only been four days but Harry missed the feeling of flying terribly. And after the Incendio Charm, he was excited about the prospect of performing more magic. From the feeling he got from his wand, he knew it was just as excited as he was.

Harry thought that Mr. Ollivander was an odd old man, talking about partnership between wand and wizard, learning from each other and all that. But after casting the Fire-Making Spell he could not deny the feelings he felt being exuded by his wand. It was more sentient than not, and was _excited_ with every bit of magic.

More than that, it seemed like his wand had been proud of him. And not that he cast the spell successfully. Somehow, Harry knew that casting it was not good enough. It was casting the charm on the first try as his classmates struggled around him. The wand was proud to be in the hands of what it saw as a strong owner. And to his surprise, Harry found himself caring deeply about what his wand thought of him.

That night, Harry dreamt only of a fireplace, softly crackling in the night, his wand propped up against the bricks - the dark of the elder wood contrasting with the blaze of the fire.

* * *

 **And that's chapter 6! Please let me know what you think about it! I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter. So much so that I did it in one sitting. My brain just didn't let me stop.**


	7. Chapter 7 - Needles and Brooms

**Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story and universe belong to J K Rowling alone. Basically, nothing is mine.**

 **Author's Notes: This chapter is a tad longer than my previous one and I had a lot of fun writing it! I don't know, I really really like going into some of the magic theory stuff so if that's not what you guys find particularly interesting let me know!**

* * *

 **Chapter 7 - Needles and Brooms**

Harry woke, early as usual. But it was light outside, for the first time since arriving had Hogwarts he had slept through the night. Smiling, he dressed quickly, pulling his robe over the top of his clothes. He slipped his wand into the inside pocket of his robes, and put his glasses on. Harry swung his book bag over his shoulders and left the dormitory to grab a spot of breakfast before Charms.

Harry had looked forward to this day, Thursday, all week. Two of the more interesting classes (Charms and Transfiguration) were in the morning and this afternoon he would be able to get back on a broom. Ron had asked him if he was looking forward to flying yesterday and he had said as much. The redhead began to tell him of all the time he spent on a broom with his brothers back home.

Harry did not know what to think of Ronald Weasley, and if he was honest with himself he did not know what to think of any of his classmates. Ron was friendly, and he spent much more time with him than any of the other first year boys. But Harry just had a difficult time relating with him. He was friendly, and funny in his own right. But the boy was prone to bouts of immaturity, as well as insensitivity. Many of his jokes were at the expensive of others and could be hurtful, or even bullying. His mistrust of the other houses, especially Slytherin showed him to be closed minded at times. However, it was too soon to come to any judgment – Harry had only known him for four days after all. And Ron was the most willing to speak with him and get to know Harry for who he was, not as the "Boy-Who-Lived" something Harry greatly appreciated.

As Harry passed through the Common Room he saw Hermione Granger with her wand pointed at the fireplace, _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ open in her lap. "Incendio!" She repeated, over and over. Hermione Granger. Another classmate Harry did not know what to think about. He could tell she desperately wanted to be his friend. But Harry could not pinpoint why. The bushy haired Gryffindor was intelligent, incredibly so. She was a perfectionist, seeking out excellence in herself, but she also sought to bring it out in others. She meant well, but she had the tendency to come across as interfering, and downright abrasive at times.

Of anyone in the school, they were the two he would most likely call "friends" but that was stretching it. He could not say why, but Harry was just… different; almost like he was on the outside of a glass wall, looking in on the relationships of others, but not able to have one of his own.

Harry sat in the Great Hall for breakfast, as he did every morning. At the Head Table sat Professor McGonagall, always the early riser, and a man with long black hair, framing a sharp face with ashen skin and a hooked nose. His black eyes stared directly into Harry's emerald ones. His look was indiscernible, but a flicker of recognition and, something else was visible.

"Mind if I join you?" Harry looked up there stood Ron, whom he had spent much of the morning thinking about. His red hair had the distinct appearance of a comb being ran through it once or twice, before being given up as too much effort. He yawned tiredly, looking at the spot next to Harry.

"Help yourself," Harry replied, surprised. Ron had never woken up this early, much less eaten breakfast with him. Harry knew though that he had to have eaten before classes; he was nearly late to the first class of each day, and the boy's appetite was legendary.

Ron sat, immediately reaching for the food at the table stacking it on his plate and eating voraciously. The two sat in silence, Ron glanced over at him every few minutes. He clearly wanted to say something, but was unsure of either himself, or what to say. Before too long Harry stood. "Ready?" He asked Ron. Nor particularly wanting to walk with him to class, but he extended the offer out of politeness. Ron looked at him, shoveling a few more pieces of bacon into his mouth before nodding.

"Mmhmm," he sounded, still chewing before making an exaggerated swallowing motion. "Let's go."

The two walked through the corridors, most of the wonder at having Harry Potter at Hogwarts had died off at this point. It did not stop a few students from staring as he passed though. "Do you know who's teaching Charms?" Harry asked, seeing how badly Ron wanted to say, anything really.

"Professor Flitwick, he's the uhm… Shorter, one," Ron began, smiling that Harry had initiated conversation. "According to Percy, he's brilliant and a former Dueling Champion! Fred and George wager that he's got some goblin in him though," Ron said. Harry found himself quite impressed, and even more excited about his first class of the day. Learning from a Dueling Champion would be quite exciting he thought.

Harry and Ron were among the first to arrive. The sat near the front of the class, Professor Flitwick stood on top of a pile of books to see over his desk. He wore an emerald that covered his balding head; long white hair flowed out from under it, appearing to merge with his white beard. He gave the appearance of a much shorter Professor Dumbledore without glasses. The thought caused Harry to chuckle slightly.

"Oh!" Professor Flitwick squeeked excitedly, he stumbled and fell out of sight momentarily, the tumbling of books being heard. "Ahem!" He cleared his throat, restacking the books and climbing atop them again. "Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley correct?" Ron nodded trying hard not to laugh at the short wizard's expense. "Welcome, welcome!" He greeted enthusiastically.

As more students filtered into the room, he greeted each of them with enthusiasm, Harry noted that he was never so surprised as to fall of the stack again. Harry was honestly quite embarrassed. The man clearly meant well, he was very kind and constantly had a smile upon his face.

"Well, welcome to Charms!" The short Flitwick began excitedly. "My name is Professor Flitwick; I am Ravenclaw's Head of House and obviously the Charms Master here. I'm sure many of you are curious as to what you'll be learning in my class in the coming years." Seeing excited head nods he continued, smiling. "I am not sure how much you've read into your text books but Madam Goshawk writes a very good explanation of Charms in _The Standard Book of Spells_. Charms are any spells in which the properties of an object or creature are added to or changed in any way. Transfiguration, on the other hand, is the absolute change of said object or creature."

Professor Flitwick scanned the Gryffindors seeing various levels of understanding. Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger both gave nods as if his words had been little but review while others seemed to struggle to keep up. "It is my understanding, that some of you are already familiar with a particularly useful charm," he added cheerfully. "Professor Sprout is wise to teach you the _Incendio_ Charm to deal with Devil's Snare. Terrible little plants they can be, but also quite useful! Now, who here is able to perform the Fire-Making Spell already?" Flitwick asked, eyes knowingly resting on Harry who slowly raised his hand. "Excellent; and to those that cannot, do not be discouraged! Hogwarts was not built in one day after all!"

After his introduction, Professor Flitwick directed the students to begin taking notes. Unfortunately, he told them that their first lesson did not include any spell work. Instead he lectured on various wand motions and their significance in charm work. "When you first begin with spell work proper wand movements are imperative. They can make or break your spell casting. Imagine, if you would that in order to cast any spell three sides of a triangle must be fulfilled; wand movement, incantation and the intent of the caster. As a novice, without a proper amount of all three the spell will fail. As you gain more experience wand movement and incantation will become less and less important. You will develop your own styles for charms, transfiguration and dueling. Intent, however, will always be relevant. All of our magic stems from our intent," as he finished a bell rang throughout the castle. "That will conclude our first lesson!" Flitwick exclaimed happily. "No parchment is due next week, but please read up on the Levitation Charm!" The Gryffindors were then dismissed to Transfiguration.

Harry filed out towards the back of the group following the throng of Gryffindors towards Professor McGonagall's classroom. There may not have been any true spell work in Professor Flitwick's class, but Harry still very much enjoyed the lesson. The different wand movements were new to Harry. He had obviously known that each spell had different wand motions, but was not aware that each spells' movements were actually different variations of a few simple single movements; like letters put together to finish a word.

Remembering the stern woman from their sorting when they first arrived at Hogwarts, the students all sat in the classroom, completely silent. On the desk in front sat a silver tabby cat with square like markings, framing its green eyes. Eventually Ron, who sat next to Seamus Finnegan, quite loudly asked "Wonder what's with the cat?"

At that moment the silver cat gracefully leapt off of the table smoothly transforming into the stern faced Professor McGonagall. Her square rimmed glasses matching the markings around the cat's eyes. Instead of the colors of her house, she wore emerald-green robes and a black pointed hat, reminiscent of the ones muggle films depict witches to often wear. Her lips were thinly pursed looking right at Ron Weasley, who audibly gulped. She did not bother with any self-introductions.

"Coming to Hogwarts ensured that you would delve into magic, Transfiguration will be some of the most intricate and dangerous. Any students that I deem to be not taking my class seriously will be removed from it. You will not return."

Warning issued; the entirety of Gryffindor House found themselves nodding along, silent and fearful, and still in awe at Professor McGonagall's transformation. "Coming from Charms, Professor Flitwick should have just gone over the differences between our two branches of magic, so I will not bore you with the repetitiveness."

What followed was half an hour of complex note taking and the students realized they would not be changing into cats and back any time soon. "The Transfiguration Alphabet is the basis of all Transfiguration. On the board behind me I have copied the alphabet. I want each and every one of you to hand in 12 inches of parchment with the alphabet copied as many times as you can fit it," The class quickly copied the alphabet to the best of their ability. "Do not attempt write as large as possible, it will only serve to hurt yourself. Without knowing the transfiguration formula and alphabet, all you will be doing is waving your wand," she stated.

Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"Professor, what is a transfiguration formula?" She asked, puzzled.

"The transfiguration formula is a relationship between wand power, concentration, viciousness and the weight of the object you are attempting to transfigure," she wrote the aforementioned formula on the board behind her. The way Professor McGonagall was describing it, Transfiguration seemed mathematical, almost scientific in nature. "Wand movements are most important in transfiguration. Firm motions are required, or you will be unsuccessfully in every attempt."

After her notes were copied down, Professor McGonagall instructed them to put away the parchment, quills and ink and take out their wands. Harry's wand felt oddly warm in his hand. They were each given a match, and told to attempt to turn it into a needle.

Professor McGonagall walked around the room correcting the students and offering advice, Harry simply sat, staring at the match. When Professor McGonagall had walked behind her, Hermione stopped her to ask several questions. She eventually reached the back of the class where Harry sat, and had noticed he had not yet moved his wand. Harry did not notice her, instead pointing his wand at the match, willing it to change.

The match thinned slightly, the wood turned glossy and the end had pointed; however, it was most definitely not a needle. Harry's wand though, once again hummed with pleasure at the slight success. He heard a sharp intake of breath and turned around, sure that he had disappointed his head of house. Instead, he saw the beginnings of a small smile on Professor McGonagall's normally serious face. "Close, but not quite, Mr. Potter."

She debated momentarily showing the rest of the class the match-half-turned-needle. But instead, thought better of it. From what she had heard from Pomona, he was not one to take the attention terribly well.

By the end of the lesson, Hermione Granger had achieved the same progress and Minerva used her matchstick as an example. The girl positively beamed at the attention and praise, proud of herself and her progress with the incredibly difficult task. When the last of her first years had left her classroom, she walked the rows collecting matchsticks. When she reached the pack where Harry Potter sat she did nothing to contain her surprise. On the desk sat a needle, reflecting the light that shined through the classroom window.

* * *

That afternoon, after lunch, Harry practically ran down the front steps of the castle towards the patch of grass outside of the forbidden forest. He was in a good mood. And he was not even in the air yet. During the first lesson he had managed to turn his match into a needle, silently pleased with himself as McGonagall showed off Hermione Granger's half transfigured match. He had learned a lot during both Charms and Transfiguration, and soon he would be flying for the first time in a week. _'Well… Almost a week.'_

Half a week.

For once, Harry was not the first to arrive. There on the lawn in neat rows were twenty broomsticks. Ron and Seamus had already chosen their brooms. "Fred and George are always complaining about the school brooms, supposedly they fly slightly to the left, or vibrate if you fly to high!" Ignoring his red haired classmate he picked the broom next to the redhead before he realized why there were so many brooms out.

Across from them were the first year Slytherins each with carrying levels of excitement. Most notable was the platinum blonde Draco Malfoy, bragging loudly about escaping from Muggle fighter jets on his broomstick. Draco eventually caught Harry's eye. "Ever flown before Potter?" He asked. Harry assumed the boy was trying to be friendly, but everything he said came out with a hint of condescension.

"Every once and awhile," Harry answered vaguely. In the past five years Sirius only asked if Harry was feeling sick four times. Those four times had been days where Harry had not yet gotten around to asking his godfather to go flying.

At precisely half past three, their instructor arrived. She had yellow, hawk like eyes, and short, dark gray hair. Harry, Draco, Ron and Seamus all stood by brooms but the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins loitered about in groups waiting for instruction. It did not take long for her to begin barking orders at them. "Well, stop looking at me like sheep, stand by a broom!"

Everyone scrambled to find a broom Gryffindors and Slytherins clearly separated. Harry glanced down at his broom and could not help but sigh. It was a _Cleansweep_ and despite clearly being well cared for, it was simply getting too old. The twigs stuck out at odd angles and while the broomstick had obviously been polished regularly, the wood was bleaching after so many hours in the sun.

Madam Hooch directed them on how to summon their brooms. Harry placed his hand over the old Cleansweep, a stern "Up!" escaping his lips. The broom immediately leapt to his hand. Despite his many years of flying experience, it was not an exercise he had done before. It was just as easy to pick the thing up. More often than not it was propped up and he did not need to bend over to get it anyway. Harry could not help but be reminded of the day in Diagon Alley when his wand chose him.

Harry noticed that Draco Malfoy's broom also leapt to his hand immediately. Harry smiled when he saw Hermione Granger's broom roll over lazily, like Sirius when he turned to Padfoot, asking for belly rubs. "When I blow my whistle, kick off of the ground firmly but not too hard rise up and come back down," Madam Hooch ordered.

Despite simple instruction, Neville Longbottom had managed to break his wrist after falling from his broom well over ten feet in the air. "What a baby!" Draco Malfoy laughed out, "Did you see his face?" Many of the other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron spit out.

"Sticking up for your boyfriend there Weasley?" Draco snapped back nastily. "What's this?" Draco bent over picking up a clear orb, glittering in the sun. "It's that thing that stupid lard's grandmother sent him." Harry looked at the object in Malfoy's hand. It was a glass, clear orb. Obviously it meant something to Neville and the blonde Slytherin was having a laugh at his expense. While disgusted at Malfoy's actions, Harry did nothing to stop them.

Ears turning pink Ron walked forward, clenching one fist and holding out a hand. "That's not yours, give it here Malfoy," the redhead demanded, anger evident on his face.

"I think not, I'll leave it somewhere for him to find, on top of the astronomy tower perhaps?" He jumped onto his broom and kicked off, flying high above the trees. Boisterous or not, Malfoy flew well. Ron growled, his temper getting the best of him. He grabbed his broom to follow.

"No!" Hermione shouted at him. "You're going to get us all in trouble!" Either not hearing her, or not caring, Ron kicked off of the ground after him. Everyone had stopped talking, watching the two in the air shouting at eachother but not making out what they were saying. They were well over two hundred feet into the air. Thankfully they both seemed comfortable at such heights.

Suddenly Ron streaked towards Malfoy who barely managed to get out of the way in time. The two seemed to exchange words and before long Malfoy threw the glass ball up into the air. Ron shot after it intending to catch it before it smashed on the ground. At the apex of its rise he reached out for it, the ball flirting with his fingertips. Suddenly, gravity accelerated the ball downwards and Ron overextended after it. Clutching the ball in his hands but tumbling off of the front of his broom as he did so.

He fell, his terrified screams echoing across the school grounds.

Hermione and Parvati Patil gasped; the students stood motionless staring in horror. Harry had already mounted his broom and like a javelin he flew at Ron, pushing the broom forward. The wind howled around his ears, causing his eyes to water but all of his focus was on Ron. Ten feet was broken bones. Two hundred was death. That was fact. Harry pushed the old broom to its limits, fighting for every bit of speed.

Within seconds he had intercepted the red head, about fifty feet from the ground. "Oof," he let out. Ron's downward momentum had an immediate effect on the broom sending it careening downwards towards the rest of the students. Harry struggled mightily, pulling up as hard as he could on the handle. He could feel the broom fighting him and the combined weight of the two boys.

Merlin, Ron Weasley flailed a lot.

The two shot towards the ground, slowing until eventually Harry's toes dragged along the grass. Obviously not dead he relinquished control of the broom, collapsing against the grass, heart threatening to jump into his throat.

Ron, who had landed on top of him, immediately stood up, helping him up apologizing and thanking him profusely. The rest of the Gryffindors started running forward, amazed at what they had just witnessed. Everyone was talking at once about what had just happened. The shrill voice of Professor McGonagall quickly silenced everything.

"HARRY POTTER!"

What had he even done? If anything she should be yelling at Ron. "In all of my time here. I have never seen anything so unbelievably stupid." Her face showed equal parts shock and fear. "You could have just killed the both of you!"

"Professor he just sav-"

"Quiet, Mr. Weasley. And you, Mr. Malfoy!" She summoned the blonde. "Twenty-Five points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin for your stupidity," before either of the two boys could respond she grabbed Harry by the arm, leading him away "Mr. Potter, follow me."

Harry allowed himself to be led back to the castle, numbly. He could hardly believe he was being punished. As he opened his mouth to defend himself she cut him off. "That was the single bravest thing I have ever seen from a first year," she told him quietly.

"He would have died, Professor," Harry said, quietly. She turned down towards him, features softening.

"Yes, I suspect he would have. Fifty points to Gryffindor, for your bravery and quick action. Mr. Weasley is lucky you are so skilled on a broom." Harry said nothing as she continue to lead him through the castle and up a set of marble stairs. The two stopped outside of a classroom that Harry vaguely recognized as Professor Flitwick's and she stepped inside.

When she emerged, a large, broad-shouldered boy followed her looking incredibly confused. "Follow me," her tone of voice left no room for argument. The two boys looked at each other, unsure. She led them into an empty classroom and closed the door. "Mr. Potter, this is Oliver Wood, Mr. Wood, I believe I found you your Seeker," Harry's eyes widened. She could not be serious. The ever severe and pragmatic McGonagall marched him halfway through the castle, making a huge show in front of the first year Slytherins and Gryffindors for a Quidditch position?

Wood's expression immediately turned upward in happiness. "Really, Professor?"

"Indeed," she answered firmly. "An amazing flier, his skill on a broom is unprecedented. He caught a student in the middle of falling, two hundred feet off of the ground." Wood's expressions were changing quickly, from confusion, to delight and now to surprise.

"On a broomstick? How did you not crash yourself?" He asked Harry.

"Err, lots of practice, I suppose," he replied. Still shocked that this is what McGonagall dragged him around for.

"Ever play any Quidditch, Potter?" Wood asked him.

"Wood's the Gryffindor team captain," Professor McGonagall explained.

"Not really, the game always seemed so boring," he began Wood's face immediately fell, obviously disappointed, "but I did decide to try out for Seeker this year in order to fly at Hogwarts."

Wood immediately perked up at that. "He's got the perfect build to play Seeker as well! We might have to get him a better broom than the school ones though." He said thoughtfully.

Harry also perked up at this. "I've got a _Nimbus 2000_ but I had to leave it at home since first-years aren't allowed broomsticks."

"I'll have a word with Professor Dumbledore about bending the rules, seeing as you will be on the team. We needed _something_ though after last year. Severus Snape destroyed us in the opening match, I couldn't look him in the eyes for weeks," the Transfiguration Professor said.

Harry could hardly believe that the woman that had just warned them about the dangers and seriousness of transfiguration that morning was getting so competitive about Quidditch, of all things. "What about the try-outs next week?" He asked the two of them.

"Mr. Potter, I will tell you right now that I have never seen that kind of skill on a broom, you have the position if you want it," she told him honestly.

"I wouldn't want to take someone's chances away at trying though," Harry replied guiltily.

"That won't be a problem Potter," Wood began, "As far as I know, no one is intending to even try out for Seeker but we'll still expect you to come out as part of the team." It did not take long for Harry to make his decision.

"I'll be there."

* * *

When Harry arrived back at the common room, book bag in hand, it was almost time for dinner. When he walked in he was immediately surrounded by the various members of his house.

"What happened?"

"Are you being expelled?"

"What did McGonagall say?"

Harry took a slight step back, and Ron emerged from the crowd, ears red. Sensing the awkward tension, the crowd dispersed other than Percy, Fred and George.

"You saved my life," the redhead said lamely staring at the ground.

"Well, I couldn't just let you fall," Harry said. "Honestly, anyone would have done it, even Malfoy."

"But they didn't," Ron said looking him in the eyes. "And I felt your broom start falling; you could have been killed too." Harry did not reply immediately, knowing Ron was right. Things could have easily happened differently leaving one of both of them in the Hospital Wing or dead.

Percy chose this time to step in, saving Harry. "I don't know why Ronald acted as carelessly as he did," at this, Ron stared at the ground red faced. "But thank you, Harry. Truly," Percy clasped him on the shoulder looking straight into his eyes. Harry could see the gratitude there. Both twins nodded behind him, but they were burning with curiosity.

"Well… More importantly," Fred began with a glare from both Ron and Percy.

"What did McGonagall say?" George finished anxiously.

"Well that's the strange part," Harry said.

"How do you mean?" Asked Fred.

"Well first she acted all angry, for a second I thought I was going to be expelled, but then she went and got some Wood bloke," Fred and George looked at each other in realization then back at Harry. "Then they told me I was going to be Gryffindor's new Seeker."

"Harry that's brilliant!" Exclaimed George

"We're Beaters on the team you know," said Fred.

Ron was amazed. "Seeker?" He asked. "But first-years aren't even allowed brooms! Gods, you must be the youngest player in… In…" Ron began, having difficulty coming up with an adequate amount of time.

"A century," finished Harry "Wood told me. But wants to keep it a secret for some reason."

"Wicked." Ron, George and Fred all said. Percy rolled his eyes, he could not see the obsession with the sport, despite his gratitude.

That night, after dinner Harry did not know if he dreamt or not, vaguely remembering Golden Snitches floating in blackness.

* * *

 **And that's chapter 7! Please let me know what you think about it!**

 **If any of you are curious as to why Ron went after Malfoy and not Harry, I kind of touched on it in earlier chapters. Canon Harry was a product of his upbringing. Constant bullying from Dudley made him intolerant of it in others.**


	8. Chapter 8 - Bilius

**Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story and universe belong to J K Rowling alone. Basically, nothing is mine.**

 **Author's Notes: This chapter is shorter than my last two and I want to apologize for that! Also, I want to apologize for having this chapter out a day later than I've normally been updating. I have been really busy but I'd like to think that even though it's a tad bit late, my update schedules have been fairly good! Let me know how you like the chapter please! I had some difficulty writing it as I'm trying to set up for things that will happen years in the future.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8 - Bilius**

Every morning at breakfast the mail arrived for the students. Owls flocked in delivering both mail and packages. It was quite a shock when hundreds of owls flew into the Great Hall on the first morning at Hogwarts. Having been at the school for almost a week, Harry hardly reacted when the owls started coming in, he had yet to receive anything and he did not see why today would be any different.

He was very surprised when Hedwig flew in, dropping an envelope between his goblet and plate before perching on his shoulder waiting for a bit of toast. Curious, Harry opened it wondering what it was and whom it came from. He absently lifted the corner of his toast to Hedwig's beak who took it appreciatively. Once open, he read the less than tidy, if not familiar scrawl of his godfather.

 _Harry -_

 _Grimmauld Place seems much larger without you in it. I hate to admit it, but I miss you. Moony's scruffy hide is nice and all but I miss the little bugger that's always badgering me to go flying. How is your first week at Hogwarts? Did you have your first flying lesson?_

 _Quidditch?_

 _Write back soon. This house is driving me crazy._

 _Sirius_

Harry felt a little guilty after reading the letter. He did tell both Sirius and Remus that he would write soon. He laughed slightly at the tone; a bored Sirius always spelt trouble. "What's that?" Harry was broken out of his thoughts, turning to his right he saw Ron Weasley taking the seat next to him.

"Oh, just a letter," Harry answered vaguely. That was twice in a row now that Ron sat with him at breakfast.

"Who from?" The redhead asked.

"Just – my godfather."

"Uh – oh." Harry looked at Ron who looked down and was loading his plate.

"What?" Harry asked, frustrated.

"I just assumed you lived with, you know, family."

Harry's eyes narrowed and chest clenched. He snatched up the letter, stuffing it back into the envelope and placing it within his bag. "Sirius is family," the emerald eyed boy stated with a note of finality. With that, he stood quickly, marching out of the Great Hall an hour until their double Potions lesson with the Slytherins, and his plate half finished. Ron watched him leave, baffled; mouth hanging open and half chewed eggs threatening to fall out.

"Honestly Ronald... You must think before you speak," turning toward the source of the sound, Ron saw his older brother, Percy.

"What?" He asked indignantly. "I thought it was a good question!"

"Family isn't always limited to blood, Ronald," the red haired prefect began, "especially for someone like Harry."

* * *

Harry stormed down to the dungeons, furious with his dorm mate. A part of the raven haired young wizard knew he was being irrational. The rest, though; was a hurt, eleven year old boy full of anger and angst, Ron was just the most convenient outlet at the time. He could not believe the audacity of the young Weasley; someone so blessed with family and totally able to spit in the face of what was left of Harry's.

Harry was seething on his way down to the dungeons and it did not go unnoticed. The staring today was not due to his celebrity status, but due to his mood. The normally stoic boy was showing emotion for possibly the first time at Hogwarts. The simmering rage looked entirely out of place on the face of such a young student. "Potter!" Harry heard the call vaguely, but ignored it, determined to get to his destination. A hand gripped his shoulder, Harry whipped around quickly staring into grey eyes with faint hints of concern. Draco Malfoy subconsciously took a step backwards. "What's got your knickers in a knot?"

"Nothing," he spit.

Malfoy laughed in his face. "Liar," he barked out. Harry turned and continued his walk towards the dungeons, not in the mood to deal with the arrogant Malfoy who was surprisingly without his two trollish companions. Malfoy got into step with him accompanying him but saying nothing.

Harry's eyes strayed over to his new companion, "What?"

"I'm just headed to Potions," Malfoy answered.

"You're a touch early." The platinum blonde raised an eyebrow, refusing to comment on the weak excuse. "It's just Ron."

"Weasley? That's no surprise, his family is barely better than the Mudbloods, father always says so," Draco said haughtily firmly believing his words. "You would have been better off letting him fall."

"Piss off Malfoy," Harry spat out, unwilling to deal with the Slytherin's bigotry.

"What? You should know, coming from an ancient house yourself, and being raised by a Black," he replied, honest surprise in his voice. "Why waste your time with his lot?"

"Just because he's an idiot doesn't make either of us any better than him."

"What are you, his friend or something?" Harry paused, was that what Ron Weasley was? A friend?

"No."

"Then why defend him?"

"Just because he's a prat doesn't give you the right to be nasty. He was being an idiot, but so are you." Harry replied. Draco almost stopped walking in his disbelief. Never in his life had anyone spoken to him in such a way. He opened his mouth, ready to tell Harry that he had no right to talk to him like that but closed it, the words dying on his lips. Clearly, Harry did not agree with him, something that surprised him greatly.

"My father say-" the Malfoy heir began before he was interrupted.

"Your father," Harry hissed, "isn't always right." For the second time in their conversation Draco was stunned. Lucius Malfoy was respected, the head of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the last truly pureblooded British families left. Before long, Harry had left him behind, his words echoing in Draco's mind. For the first time in his life he questioned the beliefs that had been instilled in him from birth.

He was a Malfoy, came from better stock. Even though the Weasleys were technically among the Twenty-Eight, they were detested. They were Muggle Lovers and Blood-Traitors. But Harry shot down those notions despite his clear displeasure with his housemate.

Harry finally arrived at the potions classroom, angrier than when he left the Great Hall. Malfoy's words and attitude struck a chord within Harry; his world view was infuriating in its close-mindedness. The classroom was very large, square in shape and there were large tables throughout the room. The windows throughout the room did nothing to warm the chilly classroom. Pickled animals floated in jars along the walls. He was the only occupant of the room, not even the professor was present. Harry chose a table near the front, hoping the rest of the students would fill in from the back leaving him alone. He was not in the mood to deal with anyone, Slytherin or Gryffindor.

Harry was pulling parchment and quill from his bag when he heard quick footsteps, walking from the back of the classroom towards the front coming closer and closer to him. He prayed they would sit soon. The next person to enter the classroom, was not Hermione Granger, or even another student at all. The footsteps ended in front of his table and he looked up. There standing in front of him was the hook nosed, gaunt man in black billowing robes.

"Harry Potter," he said softly.

Harry swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. "Professor?"The same flicker of recognition and, something else, was visible in his eyes.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, have you opened a textbook before coming to my class, or were you hoping to sneak by on your fame not unlike your insufferable father?" Harry's jaw clenched at the derogatory mention of his father.

"Yes, sir."

"And would you say you comprehended that which you have apparently read?"

"Yes, sir." Harry replied, positive that this man and class would be among his least favorite at Hogwarts. Apparently everything about this day would infuriate him, the people and classes alike.

"Tell me then, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" He asked, eyes betraying nothing. _'Whom do you take after, Potter?'_

While Snape's eyes divulged nothing, Harry was an open book. _'It is important to note, that the symbolism of the two plants in combination tells a sad tale of love, death and bitter sorrow.'_ Harry readied his answer, but other Gryffindor students began to file into the classroom and Professor Snape had immediately left his table to check attendance. It may have been foolish hope, but Harry was unwilling to believe the question had been coincidental.

When it was nearly time for the class to start Neville Longbottom took the seat next to him. "Hi, Harrry," he said shyly.

"Good morning," Harry replied, politely. Thankfully, the boy did not attempt to deepen the conversation.

Professor Snape wasted no time on introductions as Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick had. He spoke in whispers, not needing to raise his voice; like Professor McGonagall, he had everyone's undivided attention. "I will teach you the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking. Many among you will make the mistake of thinking what we do here is not magic due to the lack of silly wand-waving," he began. "That is to be expected, I doubt any of you have the capacity to appreciate the delicate power that creeps through veins, capable of bewitching the mind or ensnaring the senses. Or the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron, and the expulsion of shimmering fumes. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death; provided you are not more of the incompetent, insufferable brats I have the unfortunate displeasure of teaching." Snape's eyes curiously wandered between Draco and Harry. Harry looked into Professor Snape's eyes before a sharp pain in his head forced him to close his eyes, breaking eye contact.

Neville Longbottom looked as if he wanted to melt into his seat, terrified of the Potions Master and his speech. With a wave of his wand, Snape wrote the instructions to the Cure for Boils potion. From what he had read so far, it was fairly simple; requiring only four different ingredients and a two-step brewing process. "Well? What are you waiting for? This is a graded assignment," Snape snapped out and the classroom erupted in movement.

"I'll get the ingredients, can you write down the directions?" Harry asked Neville who merely nodded in response. Harry reached the ingredients cabinets, waiting his turn before being able to grab dried nettles, snake fangs, horned slugs and porcupine quills. Arms full, he turned and saw Ron walking directly towards him. Intent on avoiding the boy for now, Harry stepped around the other side of the crowd and back towards his cauldron with Neville.

When Harry arrived back to the table, he saw that Neville had copied the directions down. He checked over them quickly, "You forgot to write down to take the cauldron off the fire before adding the porcupine quills," Harry told the boy, not keen on finding out what would happen if the step was skipped.

"Oops…" Neville was mortified, quickly adding in the extra instruction "Sorry, Harry."

"That's alright, as long as it's there now," he replied. He divided the snake fangs between the two of them, both crushing them into powdered with pestle and mortar before adding the first ingredient to the cauldron, igniting the fire underneath. "What now?" Harry asked, in an attempt to help Neville's confidence, fully aware of the next step in the brewing process.

"Well, it says we're to leave it to brew for thirty-three to forty-five minutes," he said, "but I don't know if that's right."

"I'm sure it is," Harry replied, exasperated. As they waited for the potion to brew, Snape walked around criticizing the students. Nothing was good enough, and not even the Slytherins were safe. The only person that seemed to escape Professor Snape's wrath was Malfoy.

Once the horned slugs were added Neville moved to add the porcupine quills before Harry shot his harm out, grabbing Neville's wrist. "We need to take it off of the fire first, remember?" Recognition crossed the other boy's face.

"Thanks, Harry." He said sheepishly. The interaction was not lost on their Professor, who watched on in interest. The potion finished, they bottled a vial of it, leaving the rest in the cauldron. Perhaps Snape would vanish all of the potions once everyone had left.

"Go ahead, I'll turn this in," Harry told Neville. Neville thanked Harry profusely, nearly sprinting out of the classroom, wanting to spend as little time in the vicinity of Professor Snape as possible. Harry was last in line to turn his potion in and waited until everyone had left. "Professor Snape, I have a question."

"I'm sure you have several, Potter but as you can see, I'm quite busy at the moment," Snape drawled.

"Did you know my mom?" He blurted out. Snape put the vial he had picked up back down before meeting Harry's eyes.

"I thought my question before class started would have made that obvious," he replied lazily.

' _Yeah, obvious.'_ Harry thought sarcastically to himself. "Then why did you say that about my dad?" He asked, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

"Because your father was an arrogant, insufferable waste of magic. I only hope you take after your mother and not your no good father so you have a chance to become a semblance of a decent human being," he snarled out. Ready to defend his father, Snape cut him off. "I will speak of this no further, Mr. Potter."

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Harry nodded "Yes, sir," and left. Snape watched Harry's back as he left the classroom before he finally closed his eyes, letting his head fall into his hands. All he was able to see was those emerald eyes, so full of life transposed on the face of a man he hated. The man that stole Lily from him, his hatred for James Potter was second only to his hatred for the one who condemned the woman he loved to death.

* * *

Harry walked towards the Great Hall, confused and hungry, when he got there though the Gryffindor table was packed, the only open seat being next to Ron Weasley. Changing his mind and ignoring his protesting stomach, he made his way towards the Gryffindor Common Room, still not ready to speak with the youngest Weasley son.

Harry knew Ron meant no harm from the comment, but he still wasn't willing to talk about it. Instead, Harry sat in one of the wonderfully lumpy arm chairs in the Gryffindor Common Room, opening up _Magical Drafts and Potions_ , curious as to what would have happened had he not caught Neville's wrists.

' _Removing the cauldron from the fire is critical in this potion. If porcupine quills are added to the solution on heat, the potion will heat exponentially, melting even the sturdiest of pewter cauldrons. Instead of curing boils, the imperfect potion will cause them to painfully break out on any skin touched by the potion. The process is curable only by, ironically, the Cure For Boils potion.'_

That, sounded more than unpleasant. Harry would have been spared based on where he was sitting but Neville would not have been. "He means well, you know?" Harry recognized the voice as Gryffindor's red haired prefect.

"Who does?" Harry asked, knowing the answer.

"Ronald. He was already nervous around you, but after yesterday he's flailing. His social aptitude leaves something to be desired. Though if I'm being honest, I am not one to talk," Percy admitted.

"That's just it though. I don't know how to put it. I don't want… I don't…" Harry was having trouble coming up with the words.

"You don't want to be friends with someone that can't see past your last name?" The older boy offered. A better answer than anything Harry had come up with, he nodded in agreement. "It's not so much that. Ron wants a friend, and that's what it comes down to." His piece said; Percy left Harry to his book.

If Harry thought about it, his desires were not so far removed from Ron's own. He just couldn't see it happening. He could not see the enjoyment in their games of exploding snap, or the jokes they told. It was maddening. Like Harry was missing out on something. Harry tried to get back to reading but found himself unable, his mind unable to quiet itself and he found focusing impossible.

"Hey," Harry sighed, even if he was not actually reading the book the interruption was still irritating. It was another redhead, this time it was Ron. "About this morning…" He began.

"Don't mention it," Harry interrupted.

"But-"

"Really, it's fine," Harry said, for once extending his hand, instead of taking a hand extended to him. He held it out with a tentative smile. Ron seemed to notice the significance, smiling and taking Harry's hand.

"Ever play Wizard's Chess?" Ron asked with a smile. Harry found himself curious.

"No, I can't say that I have."

What followed was several hours of what Harry could only describe as fun. He knew the rules of chess well enough from Moony. But they had never owned a wizard's chess board. The pieces were all enchanted to move themselves on command. And when a piece is taken, it is violently destroyed by the attacking piece. Harry was pleasantly surprised at how _good_ Ron was at the game.

They had played through at least twelve games over the course of the afternoon and Harry had not even come close to winning once. Despite his embarrassing thrashing, Harry was having more fun with the game than he could ever remember, bar flying of course.

Dinner was thankfully coming close, and Harry was famished since he had stubbornly skipped lunch. Harry and Ron walked down to the Great Hall together and sat next to Fred and George. As they were eating a Grey owl flew into the Great Hall.

"Strange," Fred began.

"Not much post is delivered at night," George finished.

"I think that's Errol!" Ron exclaimed, a feeling of dread spreading in his stomach. The owl landed clumsily on the table in front of Ron, barely avoiding all of the goblets that lined either side. It stood uneasily on its legs swaying back and forth before toppling over, unconscious. Tied to its leg was a red envelope and Ron's eyes went wide with fear. "Oh no…"

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"That, dear Harry, is a Howler!" George exclaimed.

"We've gotten loads, but Ron's gotten one his first week! That's got to be some kind of record that is!" Fred said.

"We're so proud of you!" They cried together. Harry could not stop himself from laughing, especially since the twins seemed honestly sincere about their pride.

"Well, go on then Ronald, the longer you wait the worse it will be," Percy lectured. Ron sighed, slipping a finger under the wax seal. As soon as it broke, the envelope levitated into the air, turning into a mouth; the red of the envelope resembling lips while the parchment provided the color for the mouth's teeth.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!" The letter shrieked out, echoing throughout the Great Hall. Harry vaguely recognized it as their mother from the time he heard her at King's Cross. "WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU THINKING, DIVING AFTER A REMEMBRALL LIKE THAT?! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN EXPELLED, FLYING WITHOUT AN INSTRUCTOR PRESENT! EVEN WORSE, YOU COULD HAVE DIED IN THAT FALL, AND WHAT THEN? THANK GOD HARRY WAS THERE TO CATCH YOU! CAN'T LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR ONE WEEK BEFORE YOU GO OFF DOING SOMETHING ASBSOLUTELY STUPID! SMARTEN UP! OR YOU'LL BE COMING HOME!" The Howler then turned towards Harry, his eyes widened. Would it begin yelling at him now?

"Harry dear, thank you so much for watching out for my son, if there's anything you need please let us know." With its message delivered, the Howler turned back to Ron and a piece of red ribbon came out of the mouth, blowing a raspberry in the redhead's direction. The whole letter burst into flames, still suspended in midair. All that was left was ash, that blew around the Great Hall, harmlessly.

And quietly.

The entire Great Hall was silent, and Ron was beet red in the face, thoroughly embarrassed. The silence was broken by hysterical laughter next to Ron. Harry could not help himself. The entire situation was absolutely ridiculous, the mouth, the letter, _Bilius_ and even the Howler's message to him.

All of his year mates stared at him, as did a good portion of the rest of the Gryffindors, and even some others. Harry had been in Hogwarts for a school week and no one had heard him laugh once. He barely smiled, but here he was laughing so hard tears were in his eyes. It did not take long for the Weasley twins to laugh at their brother's expense and the rest of the Great Hall followed suit.

* * *

 **And that's chapter 8! Please let me know what you think about it!**

 **Thank you to each and every single one of you that stick around, read my story, follow it, favorite it and especially review it! It's what motivates me to keep going. I like to know that someone out there enjoys to read what I've written!**


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